THE 


NATIONAL    PRECEPTOR : 

OB, 

ERSITY  SELECTIONS 

PROSE  AND  POETRY; 

CONSISTING  OP 

NARRATIVE,  DE>?CRIPTIVE,  ARGUMENTATIVE,  DIDACTIC, 
PATHETIC,  AND  HUMOROUS  PIECES; 

TOGETHBK  WITH 

DIALOGUES,  ADDRESSES,  ORATIONS,  SPEECHES,  dui. 

CALCOUITBO 

TO    IMPROVE    THE    SCHOLAR   IN    READING    AND    SPEAKING;    AND 

TO    IMPRESS    THE    MINDS    OP   YOUTH   WITH    SENTIMENTS 

OP    PIETY    AND    VIRTUE. 

DESIGNED    FOR    THE    USE    OF, SCHOOLS    AND    ACADEMIES. 
FOURTH  EDITION. 


BY    J.    OLNEY, 

AUTHOR  OP  "a  practical  SYSTEM  OF  MODERN  GEOGRAPHY  AND  ATLAS." 


PUBLISHED  BY  GOODWIN  &  CO.  AND     ROBINSON  &  PRATT. 

8TBR£0TYPBD  BY  JAMES  CONNER,  NUW-YORS. 

1835. 


^ 


DISTRICT  OF  CONNECTICUT,  ss. 
rr      e  1    BE  IT  REMEMBERED,  That  on  the  eighth  day  of  August,  in  the  flflr- 
L-"*  ^'J    fourth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  states  of  America,  Messrs. 
Goodwin  «fc  Ca,  of  the  said  District,  have  deposited   in  this  office  the  title  of  a  Book, 
the  right  whereof  they  claim  as  proprietors,  in  tlie  words  following,  to  wit: 

"  The  National  Preceptor,  or  Selections  in  Prose  and  Poetry  ;  consisting  of  narrative, 
descriptive,  argumentative,  didactic,  pathetic,  and  h\unorous  pieces:  together  with 
dialogues,  addresses,  oi'ations,  speeches,  &c. ;  calculated  to  improve  the  scholar  in 
reading  and  speaking,  and  to  impress  tlie  minds  of  yoiilh  with  sentiments  of  piety  and 
virtue.  Designed  for  the  use  of  schools  and  academies.  By  J.  Olney,  Autlior  of  '  A 
practical  system  of  modern  Geography  and  Atlas.'" 

In  conformity  to  the  act  of  Congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled,  "  An  act  for  the 
encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts,  and  Books,  to  the 
authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein  mentioned." — And 
also  to  the  act,  entitled,  "  An  act  supplementary  to  an  act,  entitled,  'An  act  for  the  en 
couragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts,  and  books,  to  the  au- 
thors and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein  mentioned,' and  extend- 
ing the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving,  and  etching  historical  and 
other  prints," 

CHARLES  A.   INGERSOLI^ 
Clerk  of  the  District  of  Connecticut. 
A  true  copy  of  record,  examined  and  sealed  by  me. 

CHARLES  A.  INCERSOLL, 
Clerk  of  the  District  of  ConttecticuL 


PREFACE. 


The  art  of  reading  well,  is  a  highly  valued  accomplishment,  and  in  all 
our  schools  should  be  considered  of  the  first  importance;  it  is  not  only  the 
foundation  of  good  speaking,  but  it  may  be  termed  the  basis  of  a  finished 
education. 

Experience  has  convinced  me  that  it  may  be  easily  taught,  by  beginning 
with  such  lessons  as  are  intelligible  find  interesting  to  the  learner,  and 
making  each  selection  witli  reference  to  i\\e  natural  progres.s  of  the  mind. 
Where  emotions  are  excited,  there  is  little  need  of  mles  for  their  expres- 
sion. 

Cluestions  like  the  following  are  often  asked : — Why  do  children  and 
youth  more  frequently  fail  in  good  reading,  than  in  any  other  branch  of 
education  1  Why  do  we  often  hear  a  youth,  whose  tones  in  conversation 
are  varied  and  agreeable,  read  in  a  dull,  monotonous  manner'?  Why  are 
tliere  so  few  good  readers  in  society  1  We  believe  a  correct  answer  will 
be  found  in  the  fact  that  bo.d  habits  have  been  formed  by  a  practice  of 
reading  uninteresting  if  not  unintelligible  exercises.  Let  any  competent 
judge  examine  the  books  used  in  teaching  this  valuable  art,  and  he  will 
see  tliat  their  comjiilers  have  hitherto  but  little  known  or  regarded  the 
taste,  wants  and  capacities  of  those  for  whom  they  have  laboured. 

The  following  work  is  designed  for  the  middle  and  higher  classes  in  our 
Academies  and  Schools.  In  preparing  it,  great  care  has  been  taken  to 
select  such  lessons,  as  are  calculated  to  give  exercise  to  the  various  emo- 
tions of  the  mind  and  the  corresponding  tones  and  inflections  of  the  voice. 
It  will  be  found  to  contain  a  greater  quantity  of  interesting  and  useful 
matter  than  any  other  similar  work ;  and  the  different  selections  are  so 
arranged  as  to  give  the  learner  a  knowledge  of  reading  the  various  kinds 
of  style,  from  the  simple  narrative  to  the  lofty  epic.  The  compiler  flatters 
himself  tliat  the  work  is  such  an  one  as  has  long  been  needed ;  and  in  the 
earnest  hope  that  it  may  be  found  useful  to  the  young  in  improving  their 
Btyle  of  reading,  and  in  exciting  them  to  virtuous  action, 

Humbly  submits  it  to  the  candor 

of  an  enlightened  public 

J.  OLNEY. 

Hartford,  April,  1831. 


iv  PREFACE. 

The  following  extract  from  the  North  American  Review  is  inserted  here  for 
the  benefit  of  teachers  and  others  interested  in  the  education  of  youth. 

"It  ought  to  be  a  leading  object  in  our  schools  to  teach  the  art  of  read- 
ing. It  ought  to  occupy  three-fold  more  time  than  it  does.  The  teachers 
of  these  schools  should  labor  to  improve  themselves.  They  should  feel, 
that  to  them,  for  a  time,  art  committed  the  future  orators  of  the  land.  We 
had  rather  have  a  child,  even  of  the  other  sex,  return  to  us  from  school,  a 
first-rate  reader,  than  a  first-rate  performer  on  the  piano-forte.  We  should 
feel  that  we  had  a  far  better  pledge  for  the  intelligence  and  talent  of  our 
child.  The  accomplishment,  in  its  perfection,  would  give  more  pleasure- 
The  voice  of  song  is  not  sweeter  than  the  voice  of  eloquence.  And  there 
may  be  eloquent  readers,  as  well  as  eloquent  speakers.  We  speak  of 
perfection  in  this  art;  and  it  is  something,  we  must  say  in  defence  of  our 
preference,  which  we  have  never  yet  seen.  Let  the  same  pains  be  devo- 
ted to  reading,  as  are  required  to  form  an  accomplished  performer  on  an 
instrument ;  let  us  have  our  pkonasci,  as  the  ancients  had, — the  formers 
of  the  voice,  the  music-masters  of  the  reading  voice ;  let  us  see  years 
devoted  to  this  accomplishment,  and  then  we  shall  l)e  prepared  to  stand 
the  comparison.  It  is,  indeed,  a  most  intellectual  accomplishment.  So  is 
music,  too,  in  its  perfection.  But  one  recommendation  of  the  art  of  read- 
ing is,  that  it  requires  a  constant  exercise  of  mind.  It  demands  continual 
and  close  reflection  and  thought,  and  the  finest  discrimination  of  thought. 
It  involves,  in  its  perfection,  tlie  whole  art  of  criticism  on  language." 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELOCUTION. 

SIMPLIFIED    PROM    THE   WORKS    OF 

PORTER,  WALKER,  AND  RUSH. 

All  who  attentively  observe  the  movements  of  the  voice  in  reading  or  in 
speaking,  will  perceive  that  it  rises  and  falls  as  in  singing.  Let  any  one 
count  slowly,  and  he  will  easily  discover  these  variations  of  the  voice,  as, 
snt,  hod,  three,— four,  five,  six  ; — here  it  will  be  seen  that  the  voice  varies 
in  its  tones.  Let  these  words  drawl  off  the  tongue  and  these  slides  of  the 
voice  will  be  still  more  apparent.     In  the  question  and  answer, — Will  you 

go  to-day  7  No — any  one  will  easily  perceive  that  the  voice  is  inclined  up- 
wards on  die  word  day,  and  downwards  on  no.  These  movements,  or  slides 
of  the  voice  are  called  inflections,  which  include  all  those  gradual  waving 
variations  which  arc  heard  in  good  reading,  or  in  animated  conversation. 

The  modifications  of  tlie  voice  are  four — viz.  The  rising  inflection, 
which  turns  the  voice,  upwards,  marked  thus  (') — the  falling  inflection, 
which  turns  the  voice  downwards,  marked  thus  (") — the  circumflex,  which 
is  a  union  of  the  falling  and  rising  inflections,  marked  thus  («^) — and  the 
Tiionotone,  which  is  a  sameness  of  sound,  marked  thus  (_).  That  the  learner 
may  acquire  a  practical  knowledge  of  these  inflections,  it  is  important  that 
he  should  be  exercised  on  examples  like  the  following,  till  he  can  easily 
distinguish  one  from  the  other. 

RISING  INFLECTION.     FALLING  INFLECTION. 

Will  you  ride or  walk  ^ 

Will  you  read or  spell  1 

Did  he  act  properly or  improperly "? 

Is  he  rich —————or  poor '? 

Is  he  learned or  ignorant  1 

Will  you  go or  stay  7 

Did  you  see  him' or  his  brother? 

Did  I  say  fame or  blame  1 

Did  I  say  read or  read '? 

You  must  not  say  no — '■ but  no. 

Is  he  studious  7  So  am  'I. 

Does  he  stvidy  1  I  am  idle. 

Is  he  rich  1  I  am  poor. 

Does  he  ride  1  I  shall  walk. 

Will  you  walk?  I  shall  ride. 

Rule  1.  When  interrogative  sentences,  connected  by  the  disjunctive  or, 
succeed  each  other,  the  first  ends  with  the  rising  inflection,  the  latter  with 
the  falling;  as, 

Did  you  say  no or  yes  7 

Did  you  riin or  v/alk  7 

Will  you  write or  read? 

Rule  2.  A  direct  question,  or  tliat  which  admits  the  answer  of  yes  or  »o, 
has  the  rising  inflection,  and  tlie  answer  has  the  falling;  as, 
Did  you  say  fajne  7    No.    I  said  name. 
Did  you  speak  7     I  did. 
Will  you  ride  7     I  will  walk. 
Rule  3.  The  indirect  question  and  its  answer,  has  the  falling   inflection; 
Why  are  you  idle?     I  have  no  book. 
Why  do  you  study  7     That  I  may  learn. 
What  is  your  name  7    A  good  scholar. 
1* 


vi  ELEMENTS  OF  ELOCUTION. 

Rule  4.  When  a  sentence  is  composed  of  a  positive  and  negative  part, 
which  are  opposed  to  each  other,  thb  positive  must  have  the  falling  inflec- 
tion and  the  negative  the  rising ;  as, 

He  did  not  say  yours ^but  mine. 

He  did  not  say  younger but  older. 

He  will  not  go  to-day but  to-morrow. 

Study  not  for  o/musement but  for  imprdvem.ent. 

Kule  5.  Commands,  denunciation,  reprehension,  generally  require  tlft 
falling  inflection ;  as, 

Give  me  the  book.     Hence!  begone!  away! 
Stand  !  the  ground's  your  own,  my  braves. 
Wo  unto  you  Pharisees  I  Why  tempt  ye  me. 
Rule  6.  When  two  members  consisting  of  single  words  commence  a  sen- 
tence, the  first  has  the  falling,  the  second  the  rising  infleciion ;  as, 
Idleness '&nd  Ignorance  are  insepax'able  companions. 
Rule  7.  The  final  pause,  or  that  which  denotes  the  sense  to  be  finished, 
requires  the  falling  inflection ;  as, 

Love,  joy,  peace;  long-suffering', gentleness,  goodness, faith', meekness', 
and  temperance,  are  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit. 

Rule  8.  Tender  emotions  require  the  rising  inflection  ;  as, 
Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Mary. 
You  too,  Brutus. 
Rule  9.  The  circumjlex  is  generally  applied  to  phrases  that  are  of  a  hy- 
pothetic nature,  and  to  negations  contrasted  with  aflirmations ;  as, 
If  ye  love  me,  keep  my  commandments. 
The  kingdom  of  God  is  not  in  words,  but  in  power. 


PAUSES. 
Pauses  are  distinguished  into  two  kinds;  viz.  The  Grammatical  Pause, 
designated  by  points,  and  addressed  to  ihe  eye ;  and  the  Rhetorical  Pause, 
dictated  by  the  sense,  and  therefore  addressed  to  the  ear. 

It  is  taken  for  granted  that  the  learner  is  already  acquainted  with  the 
Jirst,  which  renders  it  unnecessary  to  give  any  explanation  of  it  here. 

The  Rhetorical  Pause  is  that  cessation  of  the  voice  which  the  reader  or 
speaker  makes  after  some  important  word  in  a  sentence,  and  upon  which 
he  wishes  to  fix  the  attention  of  the  hearer. 

When  a  proper  name,  or  a  word  which  stands  for  the  subject  of  a  dis- 
course, begins  a  sentence,  it  requires  a  pause  after  it,  although  the  gram- 
matical relation  would  allow  no  visible  punctuation  ;  as 
Hypocrisy  is  a  homage  that  vice  pays  to  virtue. 
Prosperity  gains  friends  ;  adversity  tries  them. 
Homer  was  the  greater  genius  ;    Virgil  the  better  artist. 
Here,  although  the  grammatical  relation  would  admit  no  visible  pause 
after  the  words  in  Italic,  yet  the  ear  demands  one,  which  no  good  reader 
would  fail  to  make.     The  following  examples  are  marked  to  show  more 
fully  the  use  of  this  pause. 

Some — place  the  bliss  in  action,  some — in  ease  ; 
Those — call  it  pleasure,  and  contentment — these. 
Thou — art  the  man. 
The  young — are  slaves  to  novelty  ;  the  old — to  custom. 


ELEMENTS  OF  ELOCUTION. 


Vll 


Memory — is  the  purveyor  of  reason. 

Man — is  the  merriest  species  in  the  creation. 

Virtue — is  of  intrinsic  value. 

The  great  pursuit  of  man — is  after  happiness. 

The  good  reader  will  perceive  the  propriety  of  pausing  after  the  first 
word,  as  the  subject  of  the  sentence.  By  this  pause  the  mind  is  fixed 
upon  the  principal  object  of  attention,  and  prepared  to  proceed  witli  clear- 
ness and  deliberation  to  the  reception  of  what  follows. 


PITCH  OF  VOICE. 


By  Pitch  of  Voice  is  meant  those  high  and  low  tones  which  prevail  in 
speaking.  Every  person  has  three  pitches  of  voice,  which  are  easily  dis- 
tmguished  ;  viz. — the  natural  or  middle  pitch, — the  high  pitch, — and  the 
Imo  pitch.  The  natural  or  middle  pilch  is  that  which  is  heard  in  com- 
mon conversation.  The  high  pilch  is  used  in  calling  to  one  at  a  distance. 
The  low  pitch  is  employed  when  we  speak  to  one  quite  near,  and  who, 
though  surrounded  by  many,  is  the  only  one  supposed  to  hear. 

The  learner  must  be  informed  here,  that  high  and  lond.,  and  low  and 
soft,  have  not  the  least  affinity.  To  render  the  different  pitches  of  the  voice 
clear  and  intelligible  to  the  learner,  the  following  diagram  is  inserted,  ex- 
hibiting to  the  eye  a  scale  of  speaking  tones,  similar  to  that  used  in  music 


2 

3 

4 

5 

7 
6              6 

4 

3 

2 

• 

High  Pitch. 

1 
5 

Middle  Pitch. 

• 

1 

1 

Low  Pitch. 

1 

Let  the  learner  commence  in  as  low  a  bass-key  as  possible,  and  count 
up  the  diagram,  rising  a  tone*  oach  number,  the  same  as  sounding  the 
eight  notes  in  music,  and  he  will  easily  discover  that  the  degrees  of  pitch 
in  speaking,  are  the  same  as  those  in  singing.  This  scale  of  speaking" 
tones,  may  seem  difficult  at  first,  but  a  very  little  practice  will  render  it 
easy.  Let  the  learner  speak  one  in  as  low  a  bass-key  as  possible — then 
two,  «&c.  and  he  will  find  tliat  he  can  speak  these  with  as  much  ease  and 
correctness  as  he  can  sing  them.  When  he  has  acquired  a  knowledge  of 
these  different  pitches  and  tones — let  him  take  a  sentence  and  read  it  on 
the  lowest  note— then  read  it  on  a  note  higher,  and  so  on,  till  he  has 
reached  tlie  highest  note  of  his  voice.  Take  the  following  line. 
"  On, — on, — to  tlie  just  and  glorious  strife." 

"  The  Semitone  between  the  3  and  4  is  not  noticed  here,  being  unnecessary  in  ihe 
present  case. 


viii  ELEMENTS  OF  ELOCUTION. 

A  little  practice,  it  is  believed,  will  give  the  reader  a  perfect  eommand  of 
his  voice  in  ail  the  degi-ees  of  tone  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  notes  to 
which  tlie  voice  can  be  raised. 


ACCENT. 
Accent  is  a  stress  of  voice  given  to  a  particular  syllable  to  distinguish  it 
from  others  in  tlie  saxne  word;  as  in  the  word  a-tone'-ment,  the  stress  is 
laid  on  the  second  syllable.  Accent  is,  in  a  measure,  dependent  on  em- 
phasis, and  is  transposed  where  the  claims  of  emphasis  require  it ;  as 
when  words  occur,  which  have  a  partial  tameness  in  form,  but  are  con- 
trasted in  sense ;  as, 

Neither  jMstice  nor  hijustice.  !  \ 

Neitlier  hdnor  nor  (fishonor. 

He  must  increase  but  I  must  decrease. 

He  that  cscended  is  the  same  as  he  that  descended* 

Neither  Idicfu]  nor  ii?z lawful. 

Neither  ic6rlhy  nor  tt/jworthy. 


EMPHASIS. 

Emphasis  is  a  stress  of  voice  laid  on  particular  words  in  a  sentence,  to 
distinguish  them  from  others,  and  convey  their  meaning  in  the  best  man- 
ner ;  as,  "  You  were  not  sent  here  to  play,  but  to  study. ^'  The  learner 
will  perceive  that  the  words  play  and  study  are  pronounced  with  more 
force  than  the  rest  of  the  sentence,  and  are  therefore  termed  the  emphatical 
words.      « 

A  word,  on  which  the  mea.ning  of  a  sentence  is  suspended,  or  placed  in 
contrast,  or  in  opposition  to  other  words,  is  ahoays  eviphatical. 

As  to  the  degree  or  intensity  of  force  that  the  reader  or  speaker  should 
give  to  impoi'tant  words  in  a  sentence,  no  particular  rules  can  be  givtn. 
He  must  enter  into  the  spirit  of  what  he  reads — -feel  the  sentiment  ex- 
pressed, and  he  will  seldom  fail  in  giving  each  word  its  proper  force,  or 
emphatic  stress.  Emphasis  is  ever  associated  with  thought  and  emotion  ; 
and  he  who  would  become  eminent  as  a  reader,  or  speiUier,  must  remem- 
ber that  tlie  "  soul  of  eloquence  'i&  feeling." 

EXAMPLES  FOR  EXERCISE. 

I  do  not  request  your  nttention.  but  rlemand  it 
It  is  not  so  difficult  to  talk  well,  as  to  live  well. 
Prosperity  gains  friends,  adversity  tries  them. 

'Tis  hard  to  say,  if  greater  want  of  skill 

Appear  in  writing  or  in  judging  ill. 
Angels!  and  minitJters  of  .j^race, — defend  us. 
I  come  to  bury  Ceesar,  not  to  praise  him. 

A  METHOD  OF  MARKING  THE  DIFFERENT  FORCES  OF  WORDS. 

Various  methods  have  been  devised  to  mark  the  diiterent  forces  of  words 
in  sentences,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  convey  a  clear  idea  of  the  pronuncia- 
tion. The  most  simple  and  practical  metliod  is  to  unite  the  unaccented 
words  to  those  diat  are  accented,  as  if  they  were  syllables  of  them.  This 
classification  naturally  divides  a  sentence  into  just  so  many  portions,  as  it 
contains  accents  ;  as  in  the  following  sentence  : 

Prosperity  |  gains  friends  |  and  adversity  |  tries  them. 

"When  there  is  no  uncommon  einphasis  in  a  sentence,  we  can  pronounce 
it  wiUi  more  or  fewer  accents,  without  materitdly  affecting  the  sense.  The 


CONTENTS.  ix 

following  sentence  may  be  pronounced  in  four  portions,  or  in  ten,  without 
any  injury  to  the  sense  of  it. 

Pitchuponthdtcourseoflife  |  whichisthemost6xcellent  ]  andc{istom  |  will 
makeitthemostdelightful. 

Pitch  I  uponthdt  |  course  |  oflife  |  whichisthem6st  |  excellent  |  andcds- 
tom  I  willmakeit  |  themost  |  delightful. 

Some  I  place  the  bliss  |  in  action  |  some  |  in  ease. 
Those  I  call  it  |  pleasure  |  and  contentment  |  these. 

The  following  extract  from  the  poems  of  Ossian  is  inserted  as  scored 
by  Dr.  Rush: 

And  is  the  son  of  Semo  fallen  1  \  Mournful  are  Tura's  walls.  |  Sorrow 
dwells  at  Dunscai.  |  Thy  spouse  is  left  alone  in  her  youth.  |  The  son  of 
thy  love  is  alone !  |  He  shall  come  to  Bragela,  |  and  ask  why  she  weeps  1 
I  He  shall  lift  his  eyes  to  the  wall,  |  and  see  his  father's  sword.  |  Whose 
sword  is  that?  |  he  will  say.  |  The  soul  of  his  mother  is  sad.  j  Who  is 
that,  I  like  the  hart  of  the  desert,  |  in  the  murmur  of  his  course  1  \  His 
eyes  look  wildly  round  |  in  search  of  his  friend.  |  Conal  |  sonofColgar,  | 
where  hast  thou-  been  |  when  the  mighty  fell  1  |  Did  the  seas  of  Cogorma 
roll  round  thee  7  |  Was  the  wind  of  the  south  in  thy  sails  1  \  The  mighty 
have  fallen  in  battle,  |  and  thou  wast  not  there.  ]  Let  none  tell  it  in  Sel- 
ma,  I  nor  in  Morven's  woody  land.  |  Fingal  will  be  sad,  |  and  the  sons 
of  the  desert  I  mourn. 


CONTENTS. 


LESSONS  IN  PROSE. 
Lesson  Page 

1.  My  Dog  and  my  Shadow,          _.---_-  13 

2.  The  Honest  Moravian,          -        -            Thompson's  Collection.  15 

3.  The  Dervis,       -        -        -        -        -         -        -           Spectator.  15 

4.  The  Old  Lark  and  her  Young  Ones,        -----  16 

5.  Moderate  Wishes  the  source  of  Happiness,           -         -         _  17 

6.  Affection  to  Parents  Rewarded,         ------  19 

7.  The  Golden  Mean, -        -  20 

8.  Against  Religious  Persecution,          -         -A  Rabbinical  Tale.  21 

9.  Story  of  Goffe,  the  Regicide,  -    -        -        -  President  Dioight.  22 

10.  The  Affectionate  Dog, -         -         -  23 

11.  The  French  Merchant,      -        -        .        -         Child's  Monitor.  25 

12.  Running  for  Life,  __-_-_-  -27 

13.  Charles  2d  and  William  Penn,        -        -          Priend  of  Peace.  30 

14.  The  Ungrateful  Guest,           -----      Goldsmith.  32 

15.  Parental  Tenderness,  --------33 

16.  No  Rank  or  Possessions  can  make  the  guilty  mind  happy,  Cicero.  34 

17.  Beauty  and  Deformity,         -         -        -         -     Percival's  Tales.  35 

18.  The  Discontented  Pendulum,          -        _        -        Jane  Taylor.  36 

19.  Battle  of  Lexington,             -___-_     Weems.  39 

20.  Battle  of  Bunker's  Hill,         -        -        _        -        Charles  Botta.  41 

21.  Application,       ----------46 

22.  The  Shortness  of  Life, 47 

23.  The  Faithful  Greyhound,          .        -        -        _         M.  Ihcight.  4ft 

24.  Mortality,            -------         Barbauld.  51 

25.  Immortality,  -        -        -        •        -        -_-        -    Barbauld.  52 


CONTENTS. 


26.  The  End  of  Perfection,  -        -        -        -  Mrs.  Sigourney.    53 

27.  The  Two  Bees, DodsUy.    55 

28.  Heroism  of  a  Peasant,     -------  56 

29.  Biographical  Sketch  of  Major  Andre,  -        -        -        -         57 

30.  The  Miracle— a  German  Parable, 60 

31.  The  Compassionate  Judge,  __--.-         61 

32.  The  Prudent  Judge — an  Eastern  Tale,  -  Mass.  Magazine.  62 
35.  Lion  and  Dog,       ---------66 

38.  The  Gentleman  and  his  Tenant,         -        -        _        _         _  73 

39.  Dishonesty  Punished,    -----      Kane's  Hints.     74 

40.  Socrates  and  Leander,         __----.  74 

41.  Socrates  and  Demetrius,  -------     76 

42.  The  Dead  Horse,        - Sierne.     77 

43.  Biographical  Anecdotes,  --------79 

44.  The  Revenge  of  a  Great  Soul,       -        -        -        »         -        -         80 

45.  Death  of  Prince  William,  _        -        -        -         Goldsmith,.     81 

48.  Naval  Action,       ---------86 

49.  Damon  and  Pythias,         -------.90 

50.  Test  of  Goodness, 92 

51.  The  Mysterious  Stranger,         -----     Jane  Taylor.     93 

52.  Earthquake  in  Calabria,       -----     Goldsmith.     98 

53.  The  Starling, Sterne.  100 

54.  Alcander  and  Scptimius,       -----     Goldsmith.  102 

55.  Ingratitude — Story  of  Inkle  and  Yarico,  -         -         -         -  104 

60.  Story  of  the  Siege  of  Calais,        -         -         -         -         -         -         112 

61.  Examples  of  Decision  of  Character,         -         -         John  Foster.  116 

62.  Ortogrul:  or,  the  Vanity  of  Riches,     -         -  Dr.  Johnson.  118 

63.  Schemes  of  Life  often  Illusory,       -         -         -         Dr.  Johnson.  121 

61.  The  Hill  of  Science, AiHn.  123 

65.  The  Vision  of  Mirza, Spectator.   126 

70.  The  Voyage  of  Life, Dr.  Johnson.  137 

71.  The  Journey  of  a  Day — a  picture  of  human  life,    Dr.  Johnson.  140 

75.  Destruction  of  Jerusalem,        -------     148 

76.  Destruction  of  Jerusalem — concluded,  -  -  -  -  152 
79.  Address  to  the  Sun,  ---._-  Osslan.  160 
81  Formation  of  Character,  -  -  -  -  J.  Hawes,  D.  D.  162 
82.  On  Happiness  of  Temper,  -----      Goldsmith.  16-1 

84.  A  Good  Scholar, May.  168 

85.  Select  Sentences,  -         -        -        -        -         -        -        -         -170 

86.  Select  Paragraphs,     --------  173 

87.  Happiness  is  founded  in  rectitude  of  conduct,  -         Hams.  177 

88.  Virtue  and  Piety  man's  highest  interest,     -         -^  Harris.  178 

89.  Importance  of  Virtue,     ------  Price.  179 

90.  The  Folly  of  Inconsistent  Expectations,       -         -  Aikin.  180 

91.  On  the  Beauties  of  the  Psalms,       -        -         -        -         Home.  182 

98.  On  tlie  Irresolution  of  Youth,       -        -         -        -       Goldsmith.  190 

99.  The  Hero  and  the  Sage, 193 

100.  The  .Blind  Preacher,         -        -        -        -        -        -         Wirt.  194 

101.  Specimen   of  Welch  Preaching,        London  Jewish  Expositor.  196 

102.  Happiness,  -_.--_-  Lacon.  199 

107.  The  Dervis  and  the  Two  Merchants,  _        -        -     Lacon.  214 

108.  On  the  Present  and  Future  State,  -        _        -     Addison.  215 

113.  The  Just  Judge, 223 

114.  On  Happiness,     -        -        -        -^    -        -         -        Sterne.  226 


CONTENTS. 


XI 


115. 

116. 
IVJ. 
1-20. 
1-25. 
1-26. 
127. 
132. 
133. 
134. 
138. 
139. 
110. 
141. 
14(3. 
147. 
149. 


23. 
33. 
34. 
45. 

46. 

47. 

52. 

56. 

57. 

58. 

59. 

6(». 

67. 

68. 

69. 

72. 

73. 

74. 

77. 

78. 

80. 

83. 

92. 

93. 

94. 

95. 

96. 

97. 
104. 
105. 
106. 
109. 
110. 
111. 


On  Sincerity,  -_-.-_         Tillotson. 

Story  of  Le  Fevre,        -_-_._         Sterne. 

Speech  of  a  Scythian  Ambassador  to  Alexander,   Q.  CurLius. 

Diogenes  at  the  Isthmian  Games, 

The  Nature  of  True  Eloquence,     - 

The  Perfect  Orator,  -        -         - 

Rolla's  Address  to  the  Peruvians, 

Character  of  William  Pitt, 

Characterof  the  Puritans, 

Character  of  Washington, 

Address  to  the  Patriots  of  the  Revolution, 

Specimen  of  the  Eloquence  of  James  Otis,  _        _        _ 

On  Conciliation  with  America,         _         .         .         -    Bv.rke. 

Speech  on  the  Glucstion  of  ^Var  with  England,  Patrick  Henry 

Hannibal  to  Scipio  Africaiuis,         -..._. 

Scij)io's  Reply  to  Hannibal,         .._--- 

Brutus  Speech  on  the  Death  of  Cesar,     -        -         Shakspeare 


D.  Webster. 

-  "     -       Sheridan. 

Sheridan. 

Edinburgh  Review. 

Phillips. 

D.  Webster. 


LESSONS  IN  POETRY, 


Beth  Gelert,  or  the  Grave  of  the  Greyhound, 

The  Fox  and  the  Cat, 

Might  makes  Right,         -        -        _        _ 

He  never  smiled  again,         -        -        _        _ 

The  Shepherd  and  the  Philosopher, 

The  Youth  and  the  Philosopher, 

The  Wild  Boy,     - 

The  Battle  of 'Blenheim,     - 

The  Dog  and  the  Fox,     - 

The  Hare  and  tlie  Tortoise, 


W.  Spencer. 


Mrs.  Hemans. 


Byron. 

Smith. 

Cowper. 


-     Whitehead. 
Charles  W.  Thompson. 
Souihey. 
-        -         -         Gay. 
Lloyd, 
Tlie  Painter  who  pleased  Nobody  and  Every  Body,    -     Gay. 
Tlip  Chameleon,         ---...         Merrick. 
The  Countiy  Bumpkin  and  Razor  Seller,        -       P.  Pindar. 
The  Gascon  Peasant  and  the  Flies,     -        -         -         -         - 

The  Progress  of  Untruth,         -         .         -        - 
The  Mummy,     ------- 

The  Negro's  Complaint,  -         -        -        - 

Victory,      ----.---__ 

The  Wan'ior's  Wreath,  -         -        -         -        - 

Elegy  written  in  a  Country  Church  Yard,  -         -     Gray. 

The  African  Chief,     -         -        -         U.  S.  Literary  Gazette. 
The  Sleepers,  .         -        -        -  Miss  M.  A.  Browne. 

Two  Voices  from  the  Grave,         -        -        -  Karamsin. 

The  Battle  of  Linden,       -----         Campbell. 

The  Indian  Chief,         ---.__-_ 
The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore,        -        -        -        -       Wolfe. 

Boadicea,      --------       Cowpe.r. 

The  Common  Lot,     -----  Montgomery. 

The  Philosopher's  Scales,     -        -        -        -  J.  Tmilor. 

Goody  Blake  and  Harry  Gill,  -        -        -     Wordsiiu)rth. 

The  Three  Warnings,         -        -        -        _         Mrs.  Thrale. 
My  Mother's  Picture,       ------    Coniprr. 

Ode  to  Disappointment,        -        -  Henry  Kirke  White. 

What  is  Time,        -----        1         Manden. 


228 
230 
244 

245 
254 
254 
255 

267 
268 
271 
275 
277 
278 
280 
288 
290 
293 


49 
64 
65 
82 
83 
85 
99 
106 
108 
109 
110 
130 
132 
134 
136 
143 
145 
147 
1.56 
156 
161 
167 
183 
185 
186 
187 
188 
189 
205 
208 
211 
218 
219 
220 


xu 


CONTENTS. 


112. 
121. 
122. 
123. 
12-1. 
128. 
129, 
130. 
131. 
135. 
136. 
137. 
142. 
143. 
144. 
14.5. 
148. 
150. 
151. 
152. 
153. 
154. 
155. 
156. 
157. 
158. 
159. 
160. 
161. 
162. 
163. 
164. 
165. 
166. 
167. 
168. 
169. 
170. 
171. 
172. 
173. 
174. 
175. 
176. 
177. 
178. 


Casablanca, Mrs.  Hemans.  222 

Diversity  in  the  Human  Character,  .        .        -         Pope.  247 

On  the  Pursuits  of  Mankind, Pope.  249 

The  Road  to  Happiness  open  to  all  Men,         -        -         Pope.  251 

Providence  Vindicated  in  tlie  Present  State  of  Man,         Pope.  252 

The  Hennit, Bcattie.  256 

The  Marriner's  Dream,     -----         Viviond.  258 

Alexander  Selkirk,         ------      Coxoper.  259 

The  Hermit, Parnell.  261 

Stanzas  addressed  to  the  Greeks,  -        -        -         _  272 

Song  of  the  Greeks,  1822,  -        -        -        -       CampbcU.  273 

Warren's  Address  to  the  American  Soldiers,     -         Pierpont.  275 

On  the  Existence  of  a  Deity,         -         -        -        -         Young.  283 

To-morrow,     --------     Cotton.  284 

Vanity  of  Power  and  Misery  of  Kings,        -  Shakspeare.  285 

Darkness, --     Byron.  286 

Cassius  instigating  Erutus,  -     Tragedy  of  Julius  Cesar.  291 

Antony's  Speech  over  the  Body  of  Cesar,       -         Shakspeare.  294 

Othello's  Apology  for  his  Marriage,     -     Tragedy  of  Othello.  296 

Soliloquy  of  Hamlet  on  Death,         -  Tragedy  of  Hamlet.  298 

Cato's  Soliloquy  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul,  Trag.  of  Cato.  299 

Speech  of  Catiline  before  the  Roman  Senate,  Crohfs  Catiline.  300 

The  Rich  Man  and  the  Poor  Man,        -        -       khemnitzer.  301 

Address  to  the  Ocean,        -----  Byron.  302 

Wisdom, Pollok.  304 

The  Inhumanity  of  Slavery,        -        -        -        -         Cowper.  305 

The  Cuckoo,  __--___    Logan.  306 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem,        -        -        -        -    J.  G.  Percival.  307 

The  Last  Man,        ------         Campbell.  308 

Picture  of  a  Good  Man,        -        r        '_        Z        :.       Young.  310 

Hymn  on  a  Review  of  the  Seasons,  -        -       Thomson.  Sii 

Gluestions  and  Answers,         -         -         -         -     Montgomery .  313 

On  the  death  of  Mrs.  Mason,     -        -        -        -  Mason.  314 

Ode  from  the  19tli  Psalm,       -----    Addison.  315 

Rest  in  Heaven,  --------  316 

The  Star  of  Betlilehem,  -        -        -        -    H.  K.  Whit€.  316 

Address  to  Time,  -----         Lord  Byron.  317 

Absalom, -      Willis.  319 

The  Miami  Mounds,  -        -        -        -    S.  L.  Fairfield.  322 

On  Time, H  K.  White.  323 

Jugurtha  in  Prison,      -----     Rev.  C.  Wolfe.  325 

Rienzi's  Address  to  tlie  Romans,       -        -  Miss  Mitford.  328 

Batde  of  Waterloo, Lord  Byron.  330 

Power  of  Eloquence,         ------        Cary.  331 

Death  of  Mai'co  Bozzaris,    -        -        -        -        -        Halleck.  333 

Dream  of  Clarence,  -----      Shakspeare.  335 


DIALOGUES. 

36.  Scene  from  tlie  "  Poor  Gendeman,"        -        -        -        -        _ 

37.  Scene  between  Captain  Tackle  and  Jack  Bowlin,  -        -        - 
103.  William  Tell, Knotclcs. 

117.  Prince  Henry  and  Falstaff,   -        -         -         -         Shakspeare. 

118.  Prince  Arthur  and  Hubert,        -        -        -        -    Shakspeare. 


67 

70 

201 

237 

241 


13 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 


LESSON  I. 
My  Dog  and  my  Shadow. 

1.  In  a  solitary  excursion  through  the  woods,  Major  Halden 
fell  in  with  a  man  whose  singular  appearance  attracted  his  at- 
tention. He  was  sitting  on  the  ground  at  the  foot  of  a  beech 
tree,  eating  a  crust  of  bread,  which  he  shared  bit  by  bit  with 
his  dog. 

2.  His  dress  betrayed  the  utmost  poverty,  but  his  counte- 
nance exliibited  every  symptom  of  cheerfulness.  The  Major 
saluted  Iiim  as  he  rode  past,  and  the  man  pulled  ofl'  his  hat. 
"  Do  you  see  ?"  said  he  to  his  dog,  laughing.  "  What  could 
tlie  dog  see?"  asked  the  Major,  whose  curiosity  was  much  ex- 
cited by  the  man's  happy  looks. 

3.  The  stranger  laughed.  "  Aye,"  said  the  man,  in  a  humor- 
ous tone,  *'  I  wish  to  make  the  dog  take  notice  of  your  civility  ; 
it  is  so  uncommon  for  a  well-dressed  person  on  horseback,  to 
lift  his  hat  or  cap  to  a  tattered  foot  passenger  like  me."  "Who 
are  you  then?"  said  the  Major  to  the  man,  looking  at  him 
attentively.     "  A  child  of  fortune." 

4.  "A  child  of  fortune  !  You  mistake,  without  doubt;  for 
your  coat  seems  to  speak  otherwise."  "  My  coat  is  in  the  right, 
sir.  But  as  I  can  joke  in  this  coat, — the  only  one  I  have, — it 
is  of  as  much  value  to  me  as  a  new  one,  even  if  it  had  a  star* 
upon  it."  "If  what  you  say  does  not  proceed  from  a  disorder- 
ed mind,  you  are  in  the  right,  countryman." 

5.  "  A  disordered  mind,  or  a  light  mind,  is  sometimes  the 
gift  of  God,  at  least  for  children  of  fortune  of  my  case. — My 
fate  once  hung  heavy  on  my  mind  like  lead ;  but  care  now 
passes  through  it  as  the  wind  does  through  my  coat,  and  if  that 
De  a  fault,  it  makes  up  for  a  great  deal  of  misfortune."  "  But," 
says  the  Major,  "whence  did  you  come,  and  whither  are  you 
going?" ■ 

♦  Star,  a  badge  of  rank. 

2 


14  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

6.  "  That  question  is  not  difficult  to  be  answered,  sir.  I 
came  from  my  cradle,  and  I  am  now  going  straight  forward  to 
my  grave.  With  these  two  stages  of  my  life  I  am  well  acquaint- 
ed. In  a  word,  I  am  endeavoring  to  soften  my  fate  ;  but  I  must 
have  something  very  engaging,  for  my  dog  and  destiny  remain 
faithful  to  me ;  and  my  shadow  also,  but  like  a  false  friend, 
only  when  the  sun  shines. 

7.  "  You  shake  your  head,  sir,  as  if  you  mean  to  say  I  have 
made  choice  of  bad  company.  I  thought  so  at  first,  but  there 
is  nothing  so  bad  as  not  to  be  useful  sometimes.  My  destiny 
has  made  me  humble,  and  taught  me  what  I  did  not  before 
know, — that  one  cannot  unhinge  the  world.  My  dog  has 
taught  me  there  is  still  love  and  hdelity  in  it,  and — you  cannot 
imagine  what  fine  things  one  can  talk  with,  and  respecting, 
one's  shadow  !" 

8.  "  Respecting  one's  shadow  ?  that  I  do  not  understand." 
"  You  shall  hear,  sir — at  sunrise,  when  I  am  walking  behind 
my  long  towering  shadow,  what  conversation  I  hold  with  it  on 
philosophical  subjects. 

9.  "Look,"  say  I,  "  dear  shadow,  art  thou  not  like  a  youth, 
when  the  sun  of  life  is  rising  the  earth  seems  too  small ;  just 
when  I  Hft  a  leg,  thou  liftest  another,  as  if  thou  wouldst  step 
over  ten  acres  at  once ;  and  yet  when  thou  puttest  down  thy 
leg,  thy  step  is  scarcely  a  span  long. 

10.  "  So  fares  it  with  youth.  lie  seems  as  if  he  would 
destroy  or  create  a  world  ;  and  yet,  in  the  end,  he  does  none  of 
those  things  which  might  have  been  expected  from  his  discourse. 
Let  the  sun  now  rise  higher,  and  thou  wilt  become  smaller  as 
the  youth  boasts  less,  the  older  he  grows. 

11.  "Thus  I  compare,  you  see,  the  morning,  noon,  and 
evening  shadow,  with  a  hundred  things  ;  and  the  longer  we 
walk  together,  the  better  we  get  acquainted.  At  present  I  can 
for.eofo  many  things  M'hich  I  formerly  considered  indispensable 
necessaries. 

12.  "  The  shadow  is  my  watch  and  my  servant.  It  is  only 
a  pity,  that  a  man  cannot  exist  in  his  shadow,  as  his  shadow 
does  in  him."  "  Well,  and  what  do  you  say  in  the  evening  to 
your  shadow  ?" 

13.  "  A  man's  shadow  then  is  a  very  serious  thing — the  best 
moralist. — When  the  shadow  runs  before  one,  still  becoming 
longer  and  less  visible,  as  if  already  hiding  its  head  in  the 
darkness  of  eternity,  while  behind  one  is  the  setting  sun,  and 
before  one  a  rising  star — the  shadow  then  seems  to  say,  thou 
art  on  the  brink  of  eternity, — thy  sun  is  going  down, — but  lose 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  15 

not  courage  ;  like  me,  thou  wilt  become  always  greater ;  and 
before  thee  is  already  suspended  a  better  star — the  first  ray 
of  eternity  beyond  the  grave." 

14.  With  these  words  the  man  became  serious,  and  the  Major 
alsoi.  Both  looked  at  each  other  in  silence.  "  Come,"  said  the 
Major,  "  you  must  go  with  me,  countryman."  He  took  the 
stranger  by  the  hand,  and  conducted  him  to  his  house. 


LESSON  IL 
The  Honest  Moravian, — Thompson's  Collection. 

1.  During  the  last  war  in  Germany,  a  captain  of  cavalry 
was  out  on  a  foraging*  party.  On  perceiving  a  cottage  in  the 
midst  of  a  solitary  valley,  he  went  up  and  knocked  at  the  door. 
Out  came  one  of  the  Moravians,  or  United  Brethren,  with  a 
beardf  silvered  by  age. 

2.  "Father,"  says  the  officer,  "  show  me  a  field  where  I  can 
set  my  troopers  a  foraging."  "  Presently,"  replied  the  Mora- 
vian. The  good  old  man  walked  before,  and  conducted  them 
out  of  the  valley. 

3.  After  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  march,  they  found  a  fine  field 
of  barley.  "There  is  the  very  thing  we  want,"  says  the  captain. 
"  Have  patience  for  a  few  minutes,"  replied  his  guide ;  "  and 
you  shall  be  satisfied." 

4.  They  went  on,  and  at  the  distance  of  about  a  quarter  of 
a  league  farther,  they  arrived  at  another  field  of  barley.  The 
troop  immediately  dismounted,  cut  doAvn  the  grain,  trussed  it 
up  and  remounted. 

5.  The  officer,  upon  this,  says  to  his  conductor,  "  Father, 
you  have  given  yourself  and  us  unnecessary  trouble  :  the  first 
field  was  much  better  than  this."  "  Very  true,  sir,"  replied 
the  good  old  man,  "  but  it  was  not  mine." 


LESSON  HI. 
The  Dervis.X — Spectator. 

1.  A  Dervis  travelling  through  Tartary, II  having  arrived  at 
the  town  of  Balk,  went  into  the  king's  palace  by  mistake,  as 
thinking  it  to  be  a  public  inn,  or  caravansary.     Having  looked 

*  For-a  ging,  collecting  food  for  horses.         +  Pronounced  Beerd. 
t  Dervis,  a  Turkish  Priest.  U  A  country  in  Asia, 


16  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

about  him  for  some  time,  he  entered  into  a  long  gallery,  where 
he  laid  down  his  vv  allet,*  and  spread  his  carpet,  in  order  to  re- 
pose himself  upon  it  after  the  manner  of  the  eastern  nations. 

2.  He  had  not  been  long  in  this  posture  before  he  was  dis- 
covered by  some  of  the  guards,  wlio  asked  him  "  what  was  his 
business  in  that  place  ?"  The  Dervis  told  them  that  he  intended 
to  take  up  his  night's  lodging  in  that  caravansary.  The  guards 
let  him  know  in  a  very  angry  manner,  that  tlie  house  he  was 
in,  was  not  a  caravansary,  but  the  king's  palace. 

3.  It  happened  that  the  king  himself  passed  through  the  gal- 
lery during  this  debate,  and  smiling  at  the  mistake  of  the  Dervis, 
asked  him  how  he  could  possibly  be  so  dull  as  not  to  distinguish 
a  palace  from  a  caravansary?  "Sir,"  says  the  Dervis,  "give  me 
leave  to  ask  your  majesty  a  question  or  two  :" 

4.  "  Who  were  tlie  persons  that  lodged  in  this  house  when 
it  was  first  built?"  The  king  replied,  "my  ancestors."  "And 
who,"  says  the  Dervis,  "was  the  last  person  that  lodged  here?" 
The  king  rejilicd,  "  my  father."  "  And  who  is  it,"  says  the 
Dervis,  "  that  lodges  here  at  present  ?"  The  king  told  him, 
that  it  was  he  liimself. 

5.  "  And  who,"  says  the  Dervis,  "  will  be  here  after  you  ?" 
The  king  answered,  "  tlie  young  prince,  my  son."  "Ah,  sir," 
said  the  Dervis,  "  a  house  that  changes  its  inhabitants  so  often, 
and  receives  such  a  perpetual  succession  of  guests,  is  not  a 
palace  but  a  caravansary." 


LESSON  J  V. 

The  Old  Lark  and  her  Young  Ones. 

\.  Ax  old  lark  had  a  nest  of  young  ones  in  a  field  of  wheat, 
which  was  almost  ripe,  and  she  was  not  a  little  afraid  that  the 
reapers  would  be  set  to  work,  before  her  young  ones  were  large 
enough  to  be  able  to  remove  from  the  place. 

2.  One  morning,  therefore,  before  she  took  her  flight  to  seek 
something  to  feed  them  with,  "my  dear  little  creatures,"  said 
she,  "  be  sure  that  in  my  absence  you  take  tlie  strictest  notice 
of  every  word  you  hear,  and  do  not  fail  to  tell  ine  of  it,  as  soon 
as  I  come  home  again."  Some  time  after  she  was  gone,  in 
came  the  owner  of  the  field  and  his  son. 

3.  "Well,  George,"  said  he,  "this  wheat,  I  think,  is  ripe 
enough  to  be  cut  down  ;  so  to-morrow  morning,  as  soon  as  the 
sun  is  up,  go  and  desire  our  friends  and  neighbors  to  come  and 

*  Wallet,  a  small  hag,  or  knapsack. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  17 

help ;  and  tell  them,  that  we  will  do  as  much  for  them  the  first 
time  they  want  us." 

4.  When  the  old  lark  came  back  to  her  nest,  the  young  ones 
began  to  nestle  and  chirp  about  her,  beg<^ing  her  to  remove 
t)icm  as  fast  as  she  could.  "  Hush,"  said  she,  "  hold  your  silly 
tongues ;  for,  if  the  old  farmer  depends  upon  his  friends  and 
his  neighbors,  you  may  take  my  word  for  it,  that  his  wheat  will 
not  be  reaped  to-iiiorrow."  The  next  morning,  therefore,  she 
went  out  again,  and  left  the  same  orders  as  before. 

5.  The  owner  of  the  field  came  soon  after  to  wait  for  those 
to  whom  he  had  sent ;  but  the  sun  grew  hot,  and  none  of  them 
came  to  help  him.  "Why  then,"  said  he  to  his  son,  "our  friends 
have  left  us  in  the  lurch,  so  you  must  run  to  your  uncles  and 
your  cousins,  and  tell  them  that  I  shall  expect  them  to-morrow, 
betimes,  to  help  us  reap." 

6.  This  also  the  young  ones  told  their  mother,  as  soon  as  she 
came  home  again.  "  Never  mind  it,"  said  she  to  the  little 
birds  ;  "  for  if  that  is  all,  you  may  take  my  word  for  it,  that 
his  brethren  and  his  kinsmen  will  not  be  so  forward  to  assist 
him  as  he  seems  willing  to  persuade  himself,  But  be  sure  to 
mind,"  said  she,  "  what  you  hear  the  next  time ;  and  let  me 
know  it  without  fail." 

7.  The  old  lark  went  abroad  the  next  day  as  before  ;  but 
when  the  poor  farmer  found  that  his  kinsmen  were  full  as  back- 
ward as  his  neighbors,  "  You  perceive,"  said  he  to  his  son, 
"  that  your  uncles  and  cousins  are  no  better  than  strangers ! 
but  hark  ye,  George,  do  you  provide  two  good  sickles  against 
to-morrow  morning,  arid  we  will  reap  the  wheat  ourselves.^* 

8.  When  the  young  birds  told  the  old  bird  this ;  "  Now," 
said  she,  "  we  must  be  gone  indeed  ;  for  wlien  a  man  resolves 
to  do  his  work  himself,  you  may  then  be  assured  it  will  be 
doney 


LESSON  V. 
Moderate  Wishes  the  source  of  Happiness. 

\.  The  youthful  shepherd  Me-nal-cas,  being  in  search  of  a 
stray  lamb  from  his  flock,  discovered  in  the  recesses  of  the  for- 
est, a  hunter  stretched  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  exhausted  with 
fatigue  and  hunger.  "  Alas,  shepherd  !"  he  exclaimed,  **  I 
came  hither  yesterday  in  pursuit  of  game ;  and  have  been 
unable  to  retrace  the  path  by  which  I  entered  this  frightful  sol- 
itude, or  to  discover  a  single  vestige  of  a  human  footstep.  I 
2* 


18  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

faint  with  hunger ;  give  me  rehef,  or  I  die !"  Menalcas,  support- 
ing the  stranger  in  his  arms,  fed  him  with  bread  from  his  scrip,* 
and  afterwards  conducted  him  through  the  intricate  mazes  of 
the  forest  in  safety. 

2.  Menalcas  being  about  to  take  leave  of  the  hunter  Eschi- 
nus,t  was  detained  by  him.  "  Thou  hast  preserved  my  life, 
shepherd,  he  said,  and  I  will  make  thine  happy.  Follow  me 
to  the  city.  Thou  shalt  no  longer  dwell  in  a  miserable  cottage, 
but  inhabit  a  superb  palace,  surrounded  with  lofty  columns  of 
marble.  Thou  shalt  drink  high-flavored  wines  out  of  golden 
goblets,!  and  eat  the  most  costly  viands  from  plates  of  silver." 

3.  Menalcas  replied,  "Why  should  I  go  to  the  city  !  My 
little  cottage  shelters  me  from  the  rain  and  the  wind.  It  is  not 
surrounded  with  marble  columns  but  with  delicious  fruit  trees, 
from  which  I  gather  my  repasts  ;  and  nothing  can  be  more 
pure  than  the  water  which  I  draw  in  my  earthen  pitcher  from 
the  stream  that  runs  by  my  door.  Then  on  holidays  I  gather 
roses  and  lilies  to  ornament  my  little  table  ;  and  those  roses 
and  lilies  are  more  beautiful,  and  smell  sweeter,  than  vases  of 
gold  and  silver.  , 

Eschinus.  Come  witii  me,  shepherd,  I  will  lead  tliee  through 
sumptuous  gardens,  embellished  wiih  foimtains  and  statues  ; 
thou  shalt  behold  women,  whose  dazzling  beauties  the  rays  of 
the  sun  have  never  tarnished,  habited  in  silks  of  the  richest 
hues,  and  sparkling  witli  jewels  ;  and  tliou  shalt  hear  concerts 
of  musicians  whose  transcendent  skill  will  at  once  astonish  and 
enchant  thee. 

Menalcas.  Our  sun-burnt  shepherdesses  are  very  handsome. 
How  beautiful  they  look  on  holidays,  Avhen  they  put  on  gar- 
lands of  fresh  floAvers,  and  we  dance  under  tlie  shnde  of  our 
trees,  or  retire  to  the  woods  to  listen  to  the  song  of  the  birds! 
Can  your  musicians  sing  more  melodiously  than  our  nightin- 
gale, black-bird,  and  linnet  ?     No  ;  I  will  not  go  to  the  city. 

Eschiiius.  Then  take  this  gold,  and  with  it  supply  all  thy 
wants. 

Menalcas.  Gold  is  useless  to  me.  My  fruit-trees,  my  little 
garden,  and  the  milk  of  my  goats  supply  all  my  wants. 

Eschinus.  How  shall  I  recompense  thy  kindness,  happy 
shepherd  ?  What  wilt  thou  accept  from  me  ? 

Menalcas.  Give  me  only  the  horn  that  hangs  to  thy  belt. 
Horn  is  not  easily  broken;  therefore,  it  will  be  more  useful  to 
me  than  my  earthen  pitcher. 

♦  Scrip,  a  little  bag.  t  Pronounced  Es-ki-nus.  t  Goblet,  a  bowl,  or  cup. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  19 

The  hunter,  with  a  smile,  took  the  horn  from  his  belt  and 
presented  it  to  the  sheplierd,  who  hastened  back  to  his  cottage, 
tlie  abode  of  contentment  and  happiness. 


LESSON  VI. 

Affection  to  Parents  rewarded. 

L  Frederick,  the  late  king  of  Prussia,  having  rung  his  bell 
one-  day,  and  nobody  answering,  opened  the  door  where  his 
servant  was  usually  in  waiting,  and  found  him  asleep  on  a  sofa. 
He  was  going  to  awake  him,  when  he  perceived  the  end  of  a 
billet,  or  letter,  hanging  out  of  his  pocket. 

2.  Having  the  curiosity  to  know  its  contents,  he  took  and 
read  it,  and  found  that  it  was  a  letter  from  his  mother,  thanking 
him  for  having  sent  her  a  part  of  his  wages,  to  assist  her  in  her 
distress,  and  concluding  with  beseeching  God  to  bless  him  for 
his  filial  attention  to  her  wants. 

3.  The  king  returned  softly  to  his  room,  took  a  roll  of  ducats,* 
and  slid  them,  witli  tlie  letter,  into  the  page's  pocket.  Return- 
ing to  his  apartment,  he  rung  so  violently,  that  the  page  awoke, 
opened  the  door,  and  entered. 

4  "  You  have  slept  well,"  said  the  king.  The  page  made 
an  apology,  and,  in  his  embarrassment,  happened  to  put  his 
hand  into  his  pocket,  and  felt  wdth  astonishment  the  roll.  He 
drew  it  out,  turned  pale,  and,  looking  at  the  king,  burst  into 
tears,  without  being  able  to  speak  a  word. 

5.  "  What  is  the  matter?"  said  the  king;  "what  ails  you?" 
"  Ah  !  sire,"  said  the  young  man,  throwing  himself  at  his  feet, 
-"  somebody  has  wished  to  ruin  me.  I  know  not  how  I  came 
by  this  m.oney  in  my  pocket." 

6.  "  My  friend,"  said  Frederick,  "  God  often  sends  us  good 
in  our  sleep :  send  the  money  to  your  mother  ;  salute  her  in 
my  name ;  and  assure  her  that  I  shall  take  care  of  her  and 
youy 

7.  This  story  furnishes  an  excellent  instance  of  the  gratitude 
and  duty  which  children  owe  to  their  aged,  infirm,  or  unfortu- 
nate parents.  And,  if  the  children  of  such  parents  follow  the 
example  ol  Frederick's  servant,  though  they  may  not  meet  with 
tlie  reward  that  was  conferred  on  him,  they  will  be  amply 

*  Ducat,  a  coin  of  SLvenl  countries  in  Europe,  struck  in  the  dominions 
of  a  duke.  It  is  of  silver,  or  gold.  The  silver  ducat  is  generally  of  the  value 
of  an  American  dollar ;  and  the  gold  ducat  of  twice  the  same  value. 


20  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

recompensed  by  the  pleasing-  testimony  of  their  own  minds,  and 
by  that  God  who  approves,  as  he  has  commanded,  every  expres- 
sion of  fihal  love. 


LESSON  VII. 
The  Golden  Mean. 

1.  When  the  plains  of  India  were  burnt  up  by  a  long 
drought,*  Hamet  and  Selim,  two  neighboring  shepherds,  faint 
with  thirst,  stood  at  the  common  boundary  of  the  grounds,  with 
their  flocks  and  herds  panting  round  them,  and  in  the  extremity 
of  distress,  prayed  for  water. 

2.  On  a  sudden,  the  air  was  becalmed, — the  birds  ceased  to 
chirp, — and  the  flocks  to  bleat.  They  turned  their  eyes  every 
way,  and  saw  a  being  of  mighty  stature  advancing  through  the 
valley,  whom  they  knew,  on  his  nearer  approach,  to  be  the  genius 
of  distribution.  In  one  hand  he  held  the  sheaves  of  plenty,  and 
in  the  other  the  sabref  of  destruction. 

3.  The  shepherds  stood  trembling,  and  would  have  retired 
before  him  :  but  he  called  to  them  with  a  voice  gentle  as  the 
breeze  that  plays  in  the  evening  among  the  spices  of  Sabopa;;): 
"  Flee  not  from  your  benefactor,  children  of  the  dust!  I  am 
come  to  offer  you  gifts,  which  only  your  own  folly  can  make 
vain. 

4.  "You  here  pray  for  water,  and  water  I  will  bestow;  let 
me  know  with  how  much  you  will  be  satisfied  ;  speak  not  rash- 
ly; <ionsiuer,  that  of  whatever  can  be  enjoyed  by  noho^y,  excess 
is  no  less  dangerous  than  scarcity.  When  you  remember  the 
pain  of  thirst,  do  not  forget  the  danger  of  suflbcation.  Now, 
Hamet,  tell  me  your  retjuest.  " 

5.  "  O  being!  kind  and  beneficent,"  says  Hamet,  "  let  thine 
eye  pardon  my  confusion.  I  entreat  a  little  brook,  which  in 
summer  shall  never  dry,  and  in  winter  shall  never  overflow." 

6.  "  It  is  oranted,"  replied  the  genius  ;  and  immediately  he 
opened  the  ground  with  his  sabre,  when  a  fountain,  bubbling  up 
under  their  feet,  scattered  its  rills  over  the  meadows;  the  flow- 
ers renewed  their  fragrance, — the  trees  spread  a  greener  foliage 
— and  the  flock?  and  herds  quenched  their  thirst. 

*  PronounceJ  drout,  dryness,  want  of  rain,  or  water. 
+  Pronounced  saber,  a  short  sword. 
X  Pronounced  Sa-be-a. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  21 

7.  Then  turning  to  Selim,  the  genius  in\dted  him  likewise  tn 
offer  his  petition.  "  I  request,"  says  Selim,  "  that  thou  wilt 
turn  the  Ganges  through  my  grounds,  with  all  its  waters  and 
all  its  inhabitants." 

8.  Hamet  was  struck  with  the  frreatness'of  his  neiffhbor'a 
sentiments,  and  secretly  repined  in  his  heart  that  he  liad  not 
made  the  same  petition  before  him ;  when  the  genius  spoke : 
"  Rash  man,  be  not  insatiable  !  Remember,  to  thee,  that  is 
nothing,  whicli  thou  canst  not  use  :  and  how  are  thy  wants 
greater  tlian  the  wants  of  Hamet?" 

9.  Selim  repeated  his  desire,  and  pleased  himself  with  the 
mean  appearance  that  Hamet  would  make  in  the  presence  of 
the  proprietor  of  the  Ganges.  The  genius  then  retired  towards 
the  river,  and  the  two  shepherds  stood  waiting  the  event. 

10.  As  Selim  was  looking  with  contempt  upon  his  neighbor, 
on  a  sudden  was  heard  the  roar  of  torrents,  and  they  found, bv 
the  mighty  stream,  that  the  mounds  of  the  Ganges  were  broken. 
The  flood  rolled  forward  into  the  lands  of  Selim,  his  plantations 
were  torn  up,  his  flocks  overwhelmed,  he  was  swept  away  be- 
fore it,  and  a  crocodile  devoured  him. 


LESSON  VHL 

Against  Religious  Persecution. — A  Rabbinical  Tale. 

L  And  it  ca,me  to  pass  after  these  things,  that  Aram  sat  at 
the  door  of  his  tent,  about  the  going  down  of  the  sun.  And 
behold  !  a  man  bent  with  age,  coming  from  the  way  of  the  wil- 
derness, leaning  on  a  staft".  And  Aram  arose,  met  him,  and 
said  unto  him,  "  Turn  in,  I  pray  thee,  and  wash  thy  feet,  and 
tarry  all  night,  and  thou  shalt  aj-ise  early  in  the  morning,  and 
go  on  thy  av  ay." 

2.  And  the  man  said,  "  Nay,  for  I  will  alnde  under  this  tree." 
But  Aram  pressed  him  greatly;  so  he  turned,  and  they  went 
into  the  tent.  And  Aram  baked  unleavened  bread,  and  thev 
did  eat.  And  v/hen  Aram  saw  that  the  man  blessed  n(;t  (Jod, 
he  said  unto  him,  "Wherefore  dost  thou  not  worship  the  most 
high  God,  Creator  of  Heaven  and  earth  ?" 

3.  And  the  man  answered  and  said,  "  1  worship  the  God  of 
my  fathers,  in  the  way  which  they  have  appointed."  And  Aram's 
zeal  was  kindled  against  the  man,  and  he  arose  and  fell  upon 
him,  and  drove  him  forth  with  blows  into  the  wilderness.  And 
God  called  unto  Aram,  saying,  "  Aram,  where  is  the  stranger  ?" 


22  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

4.  And  Aram  answered  and  said,  "  Lord,  he  would  not  wor- 
ship thee,  neither  w^oiild  he  call  upon  thy  name,  therefore  have 
I  driven  him  out  before  m.y  face  into  the  wilderness."  And  God 
said,  "  Have  I  borne  wdth  him  these  hundred  and  ninety  years, 
and  nourished  him,  and  clothed  him,  notwithstanding  his  rebel- 
lion against  me,  and  couldst  not  thou,  who  art  thyself  a  sinner, 
bear  with  him  one  night  ?" 

5.  And  Aram  said,  "  Let  not  the  anger  of  my  Lord  wax  hot 
against  his  servant ;  lo,  I  have  sinned,  I  pray  thee,  forgive  m"e." 
And  Aram  arose,  and  went  forth  into  the  wilderness,  and  sought 
diligently  for  the  man,  and  found  him,  and  returned  with  him 
to  the  tent,  and  when  he  had  treated  him  kindly,  he  sent  him 
away  on  the  morrow  with  gifts. 


LESSON  IX. 

Story  of  Goffe,  the  Regicide* — President  Dwight. 

1.  In  the  course  of  Philip's  war,  which  involved  almost  all 
the  Indian  tribes  in  New-England,  and  among  others  those  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Hadley,t  the  inhabitants  thought  it  proper 
to  observe  the  first  of  September,  1675,  as  a  day  oi'  fasting  and 
prayer. 

2.  While  they  were  in  the  church,  and  employed  in  their 
worship,  they  were  surprised  by  a  band  of  savages.  The 
people  instantly  betook  themselves  to  their  arms, — wliich,  ac- 
cording to  the  custom  of  the  times,  they  had  carried  with  them 
to  the  church, — and,  rushing  out  of  the  house,  attacked  their 
invaders. 

3.  The  panic,  under  which  they  began  the  conflict,  was, 
however,  so  great,  and  their  number  was  so  disproportioned  to 
that  of  their  enemies,  that  they  fought  doubtfully  at  tirst,  and  in 
a  short  time  began  evidently  to  give  way. 

4.  At  this  moment  an  ancient  man,  with  hoary  locks,  of  a 
most  venerable  and  dignified  aspect,  and  in  a  dress  widely  dif- 
fering from  that  of  the  inhabitants,  appeared  suddenly  at  their 
head ;  and,  with  a  firm  voice  and  an  example  of  undaunted 
resolution,  reanimated  their  spirits,  led  them  again  to  the  con- 
flict, and  totally  routed  the  savages. 

*  A  regicide  is  one  who  puts  a  king  to  death.  Goffe,  Whalley,  and  Dix- 
well,  were  three  of  the  judfjes  who  condemned  to  death  Cliarles  I.  king  of 
Great  Britain,  1648.  They  afterwards  fled  to  America. 

t  Hadley,  a  town  in  Massachusetts,  on  the  east  bank  of  Connecticut  river, 
91  miles  west  of  Boston — 40  north  of  Hartford. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  23 

5.  When  the  battle  was  ended,  the  stranger  disappeared ; 
and  no  person  knew  whence  he  had  come,  or  whither  he  had 
gone. 

6.  The  rehef  was  so  timely,  so  sudden,  so  unexpected,  and 
so  providential ;  the  appearance  and  the  retreat  of  him  who 
furnished  it  were  so  unaccountable  ;  his  person  was  so  dignified 
and  commanding,  his  resolution  so  superior,  and  his  interfer- 
ence so  decisive,  that  the  inhabitants,  without  any  uncommon 
exercise  of  credulity,  readily  believed  him  to  be  an  angel,  sent 
by  heaven  for  their  preservation. 

7.  Nor  was  this  opinion  seriously  controverted,  until  it  was 
discovered,  several  years  afterward,  that  Goffe*  and  Whalleyf 
had  been  lodged  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Russell.  Then  it  was 
known  that  their  deliverer  was  Goffe  ;  Whalley  having  become 
superannuated^  some  time  before  the  event  took  place. 


LESSON  X. 
The  Affectionate  Dog. 

1.  In  the  time  of  Robespierre,  !|  a  revolutionary  tribunal  in 
one  of  the  departments  of  the  north  of  France,  condemned  to 
death  an  ancient  and  respectable  m.agistrate,  on  suspicion  of  his 
being  guilty  of  a  conspiracy.  Immediately  after  the  decree  was 
passed,  he  was  committed  to  prison,  where  he  saw  his  family 
dispersed  by  a  system  of  terror. 

2.  Some  had  taken  flight ;  others,  themselves  arrested,  vv^ere 
carried  into  distant  jails ;  his  domestics  were  dismissed ;  his 
house  was  buried  in  tlie  solitary  of  the  seals  ;  his  friends  either 
abandoned  him  or  concealed  themselves  ;  every  thing  in  the 
world  was  silent  to  him,  except  his  dog.  This  faithful  animal 
had  been  refused  admittance  into  the  prison.  He  had  returned 
to  his  master's  house  and  found  it  shut.  He  took  refuge  with 
a  neighbor,  who  received  him  ;  but  that  posterity  may  judge 
rightly  of  the  times  in  which  we  have  existed,  it  must  bo  added 
that  this  man  received  him  trembling,  in  secret,  and  dreading 
lest  his  humanity  for  an  animal,  should  conduct  him  to  the  scaf- 
fold. 

*  Pronounced  Goff.  t  Whal-le. 

t  Superannuated,  to  become  feeble,  or  impaired  by  old  age. 

§  Pronounced  Rob-es-peer',  a  sanguinary  tyrant  of  France,  was  bom  at 
Arras  in  1759.  At  an  early  period  of  the  French  revolution,  he  became  the 
chief  of  tlie  Jacobins — the  leading  party  at  that  time, — and  at  length  obtain- 
ed the  su})rcme  command.  A  confederacy  was  foraied  again.st  him,  and  he 
was  arrested  in  the  national  assembly,  and  executed  in  July,  1794. 


24  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

3.  Every  day,  at  the  same  hour,  the  dog  left  the  house,  and 
went  to  the  door  of  the  prison.  He  was  refused  admittance  ; 
but  he  constantly  passed  an  hour  before  it,  and  then  returned. 
His  fidelity,  at  length,  gained  upon  the  porter,  and  he  was  one 
day  allowed  to  enter.  The  dog  saw  his  master.  It  was  diffi- 
cult to  separate  them  ;  but  the  jailer  carried  him  away,  and  the 
dog  returned  to  his  retreat. 

4.  He  came  back  the  next  morning,  and  every  day;  and 
once  each  day  he  was  admitted.  He  licked  the  hand  of  his 
friend,  looked  at  him,  licked  his  hand  again,  and  went  away  of 
himself.  When  the  day  of  sentence  arrived,  notwithstandingr 
the  crowd,  and  the  guard,  he  penetrated  into  the  hall,  anS 
crouched  himself  at  the  feet  of  the  unhappy  man,  whom  he  was 
about  to  lose  for  ever. 

5.  They  conducted  him  to  the  prison,  and  the  dog  for  that 
time  did  not  visit  the  door.  The  fatal  hour  arrives  ; — the  pris- 
on opens  ; — the  unfortunate  man  passes  out;  it  is  the  dog  that 
receives  him  at  the  threshold.  He  clings  upon  his  hand.  Alas  I 
that  hand  will  never  be  spread  upon  thy  caressing  head !  he  fol- 
lows him  ; — the  axe  falls  ; — the  master  dies  ; — but  the  tender- 
ness of  the  dog  cannot  cease. 

6.  The  body  is  carried  away, — he  walks  by  its  side  ; — the 
earth  receives  it; — he  lays  himself  upon  the  grave.  There  he 
passes  tlic  first  night,  the  next  day,  and  the  second  night.  The 
neighbor,  in  the  mean  time,  unhappy  at  not  seeing  him,  risks 
himself,  searcliing  for  the  dog,  guesses  by  the  extent  of  his  fidel- 
ity the  asylum  he  has  chosen, — finds  him, — caresses  him, — 
brings  him  back,  and  gives  him  food. 

7.  An  hour  afterwards  the  dog  escaped,  and  regained  his 
favorite  jdace.  Three  months  passed  away  ;  each  morning  he 
came  to  seek  his  food,  and  then  returned  to  the  grave  of  his 
master  ;  but  each  day  he  was  more  sad,  more  meagre,  more 
languishing,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  was  gradually  reaching 
his  end.  They  endeavored,  by  chaining  him  up,  to  wean 
him  ;  but  you  cannot  triumph  over  nature  !  He  broke  or  bit 
tlirough  his  bonds  ;  escaping,  returned  to  the  grave,  and  never 
quitted  it  more  !  It  was  in  vain  they  endeavored  to  bring  him 
back. 

8.  They  carried  him  food,  but  he  ate  no  longer  !  For  four 
and  twenty  hours  he  was  seen  employing  his  weakened  limbs, 
in  digging  up  tlie  earth  that  separated  him  from  the  remains  of 
the  man  he  had  so  much  loved.  Passion  gave  him  strength, 
end  he  gradually  approached  the  body  ;  his  labour  of  aflx;ction 
tlien  vehemently  increased  ;  his  eflbrts  became  convulsive!  ho 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  25 

shrieked  in  his  struggles ;  his  faithful  heart  gave  way,  and  he 
breathed  out  his  last  gasp,  as  if  he  knew  that  he  had  found  his 
master. 


LESSON  XL 

The  French  Merchant. — Child's  Monitor. 

\.  A  French  merchant,  having  some  money  due  from  a 
correspondent,*  set  out  on  horseback,  accompanied  by  his  dog, 
on  purpose  to  receive  it.  Having  settled  the  business  to  his 
satisfaction,  he  tied  the  bag  of  money  before  him,  and  then  set 
off  for  home.  His  faithful  dog,  as  if  he  entered  into  his  master's 
feelings,  frisked  round  the  horse,  barked  and  jumped,  and  seem- 
ed to  participate  in  his  joy. 

2.  The  merchant,  after  riding  some  miles,  alighted  to  repose 
himself  under  an  agreeable  shade,  and,  taking  the  bag  of  money 
in  his  hand,  laid  it  down  by  his  side  under  a  hedge,  and,  on 
remounting,  forgot  it.  The  dog  perceived  his  lapse  of  recollec- 
tion, and,  wishing  to  rectify  it,  ran  to  fetch  the  bag  ;  but  it  was 
too  heavy  for  him  to  drag  along. 

3.  He  then  ran  to  his  master,  and,  by  crying,  barking,  and 
howling,  endeavored  to  remind  him  of  his  mistake.  The  mer- 
chant did  not  understand  his  language  ;  but  the  assiduous  crea- 
ture persevered  in  his  efforts,  and,  after  trying  to  stop  the  horse 
in  vain,  at  last  began  to  bite  his  heels. 

4.  The  merchant,  absorbed  in  some  revery,  wholly  overlook- 
ed the  real  object  of  his  affectionate  attendant's  importunity, 
but  awaked  to  the  alarming  apprehension  that  he  was  gone  mad. 
Full  of  this  suspicion,  in  crossing  a  brook,  he  turned  back  to  see 
if  the  dog  would  drink.  The  animal  was  too  intent  on  his  mas- 
ter's business  to  think  of  himself:  he  continued  to  bark  and  bite 
with  greater  violence  than  before. 

5.  "  Mercy  !"  cried  the  afflicted  merchant ;  "  it  must  be  so  ; 
my  poor  dog  is  certainly  mad  :  what  must  I  do  ?  I  must  kill 
him,  lest  some  greater  misfortune  befall  me  ;  but  with  what 
regret  !  Oh,  could  I  find  some  one  to  perform  this  cruel  office 
for  me  !  but  there  is  no  time  to  lose  ;  I  myself  may  become 
the  victim  if  I  spare  him." 

6.  With  these  words,  he  drew  a  pistol  from  his  pocket,  and 
with  a  trembling  hand,  took  aim  at  his  faithful  servant,  turning 

♦  Correspondent,  one  with  whom  an  intercourse  is  carried  on  either  by 


26  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

his  face  away  in  agony  as  he  fired ;  but  his  aim  was  too  sure. 
The  poor  animal  fell  wounded,  and,  weltering  in  his  blood,  still 
endeavored  to  crawl  toward  his  master,  as  if  to  tax  him  with 
ingratitude. 

7.  The  merchant  could  not  bear  the  sight ;  he  spurred  on 
his  horse,  with  a  heart  full  of  sorrow,  and  lamented  that  he  had 
taken  a  journey  which  had  cost  him  so  dear.  Still,  however, 
the  money  never  entered  his  mind;  he  thought  only  of  his  poor 
dog,  and  tried  to  console  himself  with  the  reflection,  that  he  had 
prevented  a  greater  evil,  by  despatching  a  mad  animal,  than  he 
had  suffered  by  his  loss. 

8.  This  opiate  to  his  wounded  spirit  was  ineffectual :  "  I  am 
most  unfortunate,"  said  he  to  himself;  "I  would  almost  rather 
have  lost  my  money  than  my  dog."  Saying  this,  he  stretched 
out  his  hand  to  grasp  his  treasure.  It  was  missing ;  no  bag  was 
to  be  found. 

9.  In  an  instant,  he  opened  his  eyes  to  his  rashness  and  his 
folly.  "  Wretch  that  I  am  !  I  alone  am  to  blame.  I  could  not 
comprehend  the  admonition  which  my  innocent  and  most  faith- 
ful friend  gave  me,  and  I  have  sacrificed  him  for  his  zeal.  He 
wished  only  to  inform  me  of  my  mistake,  and  he  has  paid  for 
his  fidelity  with  his  life." 

10.  He  instantly  turned  his  horse,  and  went  off  at  full  gallop 
to  the  place  where  he  had  stopped.  He  saw,  with  half-averted 
eyes,  the  scene  where  the  tragedy  was  acted  ;  lie  perceived  the 
traces  of  blood  as  he  proceeded  ;  he  was  oppressed  and  dis- 
tracted ;  but  in  vain  did  he  look  for  his  dog — he  was  not  to  be 
seen  on  the  road. 

11.  At  last,  he  arrived  at  the  spot  where  he  had  alighted. — 
But  what  were  his  sensations  !  His  heart  was  ready  to  bleed  ; 
he  raved  in  the  madness  of  despair.  The  poor  dog,  unable  to 
follow  his  dear,  but  cruel  master,  had  determined  to  consecrate 
his  last  moments  to  his  service.  He  had  crawled,  all  bloody 
as  he  was,  to  the  forgotten  bag,  and,  in  the  agonies  of  death, 
he  lay  watching  beside  it. 

12.  When  he  saw  his  master,  he  still  testified  his  joy,  by  the 
wagging  of  his  tail — he  could  do  no  more — he  tried  to  rise, 
but  his  strength  was  gone.  The  vital  tide  was  ebbing  fast ; 
even  the  caresses  of  his  master  could  not  prolong  his  life  for 
a  few  moments. 

13.  He  stretched  out  his  tongue  to  lick  the  hand  that  was 
now  fondling  him  in  the  agonies  of  regret,  as  if  to  seal  forgive- 
ness for  the  deed  that  had  deprived  him  of  life.  He  then  cast 
a  look  of  kindness  on  his  master,  and  closed  his  eyes  for  ever 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  2t 

LESSON  XIL 

Running'  for  Life, 

L  Colter  came  to  St.  Louis*  in  May,  1810,  in  a  small 
canoe,  from  the  head  waters  of  the  Missouri,  a  distance  of  3000 
miles,  which  he  traversed  in  30  days.  I  saw  him,  on  his  arri- 
val, and  received  from  him  an  account  of  his  adventures,  after 
he  had  separated  from  Lewis  and  Clark's  party ;  one  of  these, 
for  its  singularity,  I  shall  relate. 

2.  On  the  arrival  of  the  party  at  the  head  waters  of  the  Mis- 
souri, Colter,  observing  an  appearance  of  abundance  of  beaverf 
being  there,  got  permission  to  remain  and  hunt  for  some  time, 
which  he  did  in  company  with  a  man  of  the  name  of  Dixon, 
who  had  traversed  the  immense  tract  of  country  from  St.  Louis 
to  the  head  waters  of  the  Missouri  alone. 

3.  Soon  after,  he  separated  from  Dixon,  and  trapped  in  com- 
pany with  a  hunter  named  Potts  ;  and  aware  of  the  hostility  of 
the  Blackfoot  Indians,  one  of  whom  had  been  killed  by  Lewis, 
they  set  their  traps  at  night,  and  took  them  up  early  in  the 
morning,  remaining  concealed  during  the  day. 

4.  They  were  examining  their  traps  early  one  morning,  in  a 
creek  about  six  miles  from  that  branch  of  the  Missouri  called 
Jefferson's  Fork,  and  were  ascending  in  a  canoe,  when  they 
suddenly  heard  a  great  noise,  resembling  the  trampling  of  ani- 
mals ;  but  they  could  not  ascertain  the  fact,  as  the  high  perpen- 
dicular banks  on  each  side  of  the  river  impeded  their  view. 

5.  Colter  immediately  pronounced  it  to  be  occasioned  by 
Indians,  and  advised  an  instant  retreat,  but  was  accused  of 
cowardice  by  Potts,  who  insisted  that  the  noise  was  caused  by 
buffaloes,  and  they  proceeded  on. 

6.  In  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  their  doubts  were  removed 
by  a  party  of  Indians  making  their  appearance  on  both  sides  of 
the  creek,  to  the  amount  of  five  or  six  hundred,  who  beckoned 
them  to  come  ashore. 

7.  As  retreat  was  now  impossible.  Colter  turned  the  head  of 
the  canoe  ;  and,  at  the  moment  of  its  touching,  an  Indian  seized 
the  rifle  belonging  to  Potts  ;  but  Colter,  who  is  a  remarkably 
strong  man,  immediately  retook  it,  and  handed  it  to  Potts,  who 
remained  in  the  canoe,  and,  on  receiving  it,  pushed  off  into  the 
river. 

*  St.  Louis,  a  city  in  Missouri,  situated  on  the  Mississippi  river, 
t  Beaver,  an  amphibious  animal,  valuable  for  its  fur,  and  remarkable  for 
its  ingenuity  in  constructing  its  lodges  or  habitations. 


28  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

8.  He  had  scarcely  quitted  the  shore,  when  an  arrow  was  shot 
at  him,  and  he  cried  out,  "  Colter,  I  am  wounded  !"  Colter 
remonstrated  with  him  on  the  folly  of  attempting  to  escape,  and 
urged  him  to  come  ashore.  Instead  of  complying-,  he  instantly 
levelled  his  rifle  at  the  Indian,  and  shot  him  dead  on  the  spot. 

9.  This  conduct,  situated  as  he  was,  may  appear  to  have  been 
an  act  of  madness,  but  it  was  doubtless  the  effect  of  sudden  but 
sound  reasoning  ;  for,  if  taken  alive,  he  must  have  expected  to 
be  tortured  to  death,  according  to  their  custom.  He  was  in- 
stantly pierced  with  arrows  so  numerous,  that,  to  use  Colter's 
words,  "  He  was  made  a  riddle  of.'*'' 

10.  They  now  seized  Colter,  stripped  him  entirely  naked, 
and  began  to  consult  on  the  manner  in  which  he  should  be  put 
to  death.  They  were  at  first  inclined  to  set  him  up  as  a  mark 
to  shoot  at,  but  the  chief  interfered,  and,  seizing  him  by  the 
shoulder,  asked  him  if  he  could  run  fast.  ^ 

11.  Colter,  who  had  been  some  time  amongst  the  Keekatso 
or  Crow  Indians,  had  in  a  considerable  degree  acquired  the 
Blackfoot  language,  and  was  also  well  acquainted  with  Indian 
customs  ;  he  knew  that  he  had  now  to  run  for  his  life,  with  the 
dreadful  odds  of  five  or  six  hundred  against  him,  and  those, 
armed  Indians  ;  he  therefore  cunningly  replied,  that  he  was  a 
very  bad  runner,  although  he  was  considered  by  the  hunters  as 
remarkably  swift. 

12.  The  chief  now  commanded  the  party  to  remain  station- 
ary, and  led  Colter  out  on  the  prairie,*  three  or  four  hundred 
yards,  and  released  him,  bidding  him  save  himself  if  he  could. 
At  this  instant  the  horrid  war-hoopt  sounded  in  the  ears  of 
poor  Colter,  who,  urged  with  the  hope  of  preserving  his  life, 
ran  "vvith  a  speed  at  which  himself  was  surprised. 

13.  He  proceeded  towards  the  Jefferson  Fork,  having  to 
traverse  a  plain,  six  miles  in  breadth,  abounding  with  the  prick- 
ly pear,  on  which  he  was  every  instant  treading  with  his  naked 
feet. 

14.  He  ran  nearly  half  way  across  the  plain  before  he  ven- 
tured to  look  over  his  shoulder,  when  he  perceived  that  the 
Indians  were  very  much  scattered ;  and  that  he  had  gained 
ground  to  a  considerable  distance  from  the  main  body  ;  but  one 
Indian,  who  carried  a  spear,  was  much  before  all  the  rest,  and 
not  more  than  one  hundred  yards  from  him. 

♦  Pronounced  pra-re,  an  extensive  tract  of  land,  mostly  level,  destitute  of 
trees,  and  covered  with  tall  coarse  grass.  They  are  numerous  in  the  western 
states  and  territories,  and  frequently  extend  farther  than  the  eye  can  see. 

t  War-hoop,  the  savage  yell  of  war. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  29 

15.  A  faint  gleam  of  hope  now  cheered  the  heart  of  Colter  : 
he  derived  confidence  from  the  belief  that  escape  was  within 
the  bounds  of  possibility ;  but  that  confidence  was  nearly  fatal  to 
him ;  for  he  exerted  himself  to  such  a  degree,  that  the  blood 
gushed  from  his  nostrils,  and  soon  almost  covered  the  fore  part 
of  his  body. 

16.  He  had  now  arrived  within  a  mile  of  the  river,  when  he 
distinctly  heard  the  appalling  sound  of  footsteps  behind  him, 
and  every  instant  expected  to  feel  the  spear  of  his  pursuer. 
Again  he  turned  his  head,  and  saw  the  savage  not  twenty  yards 
from  him. 

17.  Determined,  if  possible,  to  avoid  the  expected  blow,  he 
suddenly  stopped — turned  round — and  spread  out  his  arms. 
The  Indian,  surprised  by  the  suddenness  of  the  action,  and  per- 
haps by  the  bloody  appearance  of  Colter,  also  attempted  to  stop 
— but,  exhausted  with  running,  he  fell,  whilst  endeavoring  to 
throw  his  spear,  which  stuck  in  the  ground  and  broke. 

18.  Colter  instantly  snatched  up  the  pointed  part,  with 
which  he  pinned  him  to  the  earth,  and  then  continued  his  flight. 
The  foremost  of  the  Indians,  arriving  at  the  place,  stopped  till 
others  came  up  to  join  them,  when  they  set  up  a  hideous  yell. 

19.  Every  moment  of  this  time  was  improved  by  Colter ; 
who,  although  fainting  and  exhausted,  succeeded  in  gaining  the 
skirting  of  the  cotton-tree  wood,  on  the  borders  of  the  Fork, 
through  which  he  ran,  and  plunged  into  the  river. 

20.  Fortunately  for  him,  a  little  below  this  place  was  an 
island,  against  the  upper  part  of  which,  a  raft  of  drift  timber  had 
lodged.  He  dived  under  the  raft,  and  after  several  eftbrts,  got 
his  head  above  water  amongst  the  trunks  of  trees,  covered  over 
with  smaller  wood  to  the  depth  of  several  feet. 

21.  Scarcely  had  he  secured  himself,  when  the  Indians  arriv- 
ed on  the  river,  screeching  and  yelling  like  so  many  fiends.* — 
They  were  frequently  on  the  raft,  during  the  day,  and  were 
seen  through  the  chinks  by  Colter,  who  was  congratulating 
himself  on  his  escape,  until  the  idea  arose  that  they  might  set 
the  raft  on  fire. 

22.  In  horrible  suspense  he  remained  until  night,  when, 
hearing  no  more  of  the  Indians,  he  dived  under  the  raft,  and 
swam  silently  down  the  river,  to  a  considerable  distance,  where 
he  landed,  and  travelled  all  night.  After  seven  days'  tedious 
journeying,  he  arrived  at  Lisa's  Fort,  on  the  Yellow  Stone. 

♦  Pronounced  feends,  evil  spirits. 

3* 


30  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  xm. 

Charles  II*  and  William  Penn.] — Friend  of  Peace. 

When  William  Penn  was  about  to  sail  from  England  foi 
Pennsylvania,  he  went  to  take  his  leave  of  the  King,  and  the 
following-  conversation  occurred  : 

"  Well,  friend  William,"  said  Charles,  "  I  have  sold  you  a 
noble  province  in  North  America  ;  but  still  I  suppose  you  have 
no  thoughts  of  going  thither  yourself." 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  replied  William, "  and  I  am  just  come  to 
bid  thee  farewell." 

"  What !  venture  yourself  among  the  savages  of  North 
America  !  Why,  man,  what  security  have  you  that  you  will 
not  be  in  their  war-kettle  in  two  hours  after  setting  foot  on  their 
shores  ?" 

"  The  best  security  in  the  world,"  replied  Penn. 

"  I  doubt  that,  friend  William  ;  I  have  no  idea  of  any  secu- 
rity against  those  cannibals,  but  in  a  regiment  of  good  soldiers, 
with  their  muskets  and  bayonets.  And  mind  I  tell  you  before 
hand,  that,  with  all  my  good  will  for  you  and  your  family,  to 
whom  I  am  under  obligations,  Twill  not  send  a  single  soldier 
with  you." 

"  I  want  none  of  thy  soldiers,"  answered  William,  "I  depend 
on  something  better  than  thy  soldiers." 

The  king  wished  to  know  what  that  was. 

"Why,  I  depend  upon  themselves — on  their  own  mora/ 5^7?  .96 
— even  on  that  grace  of  God  which  bringeth  salvation,  and 
w^hich  hath  appeared  unto  all  men." 

"  I  fear,  friend  William,  that  grace  has  never  appeared  to  the 
Indians  of  North  America." 

"  Why  not  to  them  as  well  as  all  others  ?" 

"  If  it  had  appeared  to  them,"  said  the  king,  "  they  would 
hardly  have  treated  my  subjects  so  barbarously  as  they  have 
done." 

"  That  is  no  proof  to  the  contrary,  friend  Charles.  Thy 
subjects  were  the  aggressors.  When  thy  subjects  tirst  went  to 
North  America,  they  found  these  poor  people  the  fondest  and 
kindest  creatures  in  the  world.     Every  day  they  would  watch 

*  Charles  II.  King  of  England,  A.  D.  I6G0,  and  reigned  25  years. 

t  William  Penn,  a  celebrated  quaker,  or  friend,  was  born  in  London,  in 
1644.  He  established  the  colony  of  Pennsylvania,  and  from  him  the  state 
derives  its  name.  He  died  at  Rushcomb,  in  England,  1718.  The  character 
of  Penn  is  truly  amiable,  benevolent,  and  humane,  and  his  labours  were 
ever  devoted  to  the  benefit  of  mankind. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  31 

for  them  to  come  ashore,  and  hasten  to  meet  them,  and  feast 
them  on  their  best  fish  and  venison  and  corn,  which  was  all 
that  they  had.  In  return  for  this  hospitality  of  the  savages,  as 
we  call  them,  thy  subjects,  termed  Christians,  seized  on  their 
country  and  rich  hunting  grounds,  for  farms  for  themselves ! 
Now,  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  these  much  injured  people 
should  have  been  driven  to  desperation  by  such  injustice  ;  and 
that,  burning  with  revenge,  they  should  have  committed  some 
excesses?" 

*'  Well,  then,  I  hope,  friend  William,  you  will  not  complain 
when  they  come  to  treat  you  in  the  same  manner." 
"  I  am  not  afraid  of  it,"  said  Penn. 

"Aye !  how  will  you  avoid  it  ?  You  mean  to  get  their  hunt- 
ing grounds  too,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Yes,  but  not  by  driving  these  poor  people  away  from  them." 
"  No,  indeed  !  How  then  ^vill  you  get  the  lands  ?" 
"  I  mean  to  buy  their  lands  of  them." 

"  Buy  their  lands  of  them  !  why,  man,  you  have  already 
bought  them  of  me." 

"  Yes,  I  know  I  have,  and  at  a  dear  rate  too ;  but  I  did  it 
only  to  get  thy  good  will,  not  that  I  thought  thou  hadst  any 
right  to  their  lands." 

"  Zounds,  man  !  no  right  to  their  lands  !" 
"  No,  friend  Charles,  no  right  at  all : — What  right  hast  thou 
to  their  lands  ?" 

"  Why,  the  right  of  discover]);  the  right  which  the  Pope  and 
all  Christian  Kinffs  have  ao^reed  to  o-ive  one  another." 

"  The  right  of  discovery  !  a  strange  kind  of  right  indeed. — 
Now  suppose,  friend  Charles,  some  canoe  loads  of  these  Indians, 
crossing  the  sea,  and  discovering  thy  Island  of  Great  Britain, 
were  to  claim  it  as  their  own,  and  set  it  up  for  sale  over  thy  head, 
wliat  wouldst  thou  think  of  it  ?" 

"  Why — why — why,"  (replied  Charles,)  "  I  must  confess  I 
should  think  it  a  piece  of  great  impudence  in  them." 

"  Well,  then,  how  canst  thou,  a  Christian,  and  a  Christian 
PRINCE  too,  do  that  which  thou  so  utterly  condemnest  in  these 
people  whom  thou  callest  savages  ?  Yes,  friend  Charles,  and 
suppose  again  that  these  Indians,  on  thy  refusal  to  give  up  thy 
Island  of  Great  Britain,  were  to  make  war  on  thee,  and  having 
weapons  more  destructive  than  thine,  were  to  destroy  many  of 
thy  subjects,  and  to  drive  the  rest  away,  wouldst  thou  not  think 
it  horribly  cruel  ?" 

The  King  assenting  to  this  with  strong  marks  of  conviction, 
William  proceeded — "  Well,  then,  friend  Charles,  how  can  I, 


32  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

who  call  myself  a  Christian,  do  what  I  should  abhor  even  in 
heathens  ?  No,  I  will  not  do  it — But  I  will  buy  the  ri^ht  of  the 
proper  owners,  even  of  the  Indians  themselves.  By  doing  this 
I  shall  imitate  God  himself,  in  his  justice  and  mercy,  and  there- 
by insure  his  blessing  on  my  colony,  if  I  should  ever  live  to 
plant  one  in  North  America." 


LESSON  XIV. 
The  Ungrateful  Guest. — Goldsmith. 

1.  Philip,*  king  of  Macedon,t  is  celebrated  for  an  act  of 
private  justice,  which  does  great  honor  to  his  memory.  A  cer- 
tain soldier,  in  the  Macedonian  army,  had,  in  various  instances, 
distinguished  himself  by  extraordinary  acts  of  valor  ;  and  had 
received  many  marks  of  Philip's  approbation  and  favor. 

2.  On  a  particular  occasion,  this  soldier  embarked  on  board 
a  vessel,  which  Avas  wrecked  by  a  violent  storm ;  and  he  was 
cast  on  the  shore,  helpless  and  naked,  with  scarcely  any  ap- 
pearance of  life.  A  Macedonian,  whose  lands  were  contiguous 
to  the  sea,  came  opportunely  to  be  witness  of  his  distress;  and, 
with  the  most  humane  and  charitable  tenderness,  flew  to  the 
relief  of  the  unhappy  stranger. 

3.  He  bore  him  to  his  house,  laid  him  on  his  own  bed,  revi- 
ved— cherished — and  comforted  him  ;  and  for  forty  days,  sup- 
plied him  freely  with  all  the  necessaries  and  conveniences 
which  his  languishing  condition  could  require. 

4.  The  soldier,  thus  happily  rescued  from  death,  was  inces- 
sant in  the  wannest  expressions  of  gratitude  to  his  benefactor ; 
assured  him  of  his  interest  with  the  king ;  and  of  his  determin- 
ation to  obtain  for  him,  from  the  royal  bounty,  the  noble  returns 
which  such  extraordinary  benevolence  had  merited.  He  was  al 
length  completely  recovered;  and  was  supplied  by  his  kind 
host  with  money  to  pursue  his  journey. 

5.  After  some  time,  the  soldier  presented  himself  before  the 
king  :  he  recounted  his  misfortunes  ;  he  magnified  his  services  ; 
and  this  inhuman  wretch,  who  had  looked  with  an  eye  of  envy 
on  the  possessions  of  the  man  by  whom  his  life  had  been  pre- 

*  Philip  became  king  of  Macedon,3G0  B.  C.  He  was  a  brave,  artful  and 
ambitious  man.  He  aspired  to  the  sovereignty  of  Greece,  but  was  assassin- 
ated by  Pausanias,  336  B.  C,  while  meditating  the  conquest  of  Persia,  at 
tlie  head  of  the  Grecian  forces.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  son,  Alexander 
the  Great. 

+  Macedon,  an  ancient  kingdom  in  the  northern  part  of  Greece,  now  em- 
braced in  Turkey  in  Europe. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  33 

served  was  so  devoid  of  gratitude,  and  of  every  human  senti- 
ment, as  to  request  that  the  king  would  bestow  upon  him  the 
house  and  lands,  where  he  had  been  so  tenderly  and  kindly 
entertained. 

6.  Unhappily,  Philip,  without  examination,  precipitately 
granted  his  infamous  request.  The  soldier  then  returned  to 
his  preserver ;  and  repaid  his  goodness  by  driving  him  from 
his  settlement,  and  taking  immediate  possession  of  all  the  fruits 
of  his  honest  industry. 

7.  The  poor  man,  stung  with  such  an  instance  of  unparalleled 
ingratitude  and  insensibility,  boldly  determined,  instead  of  sub- 
mitting to  his  wrongs,  to  seek  relief:  and  in  a  letter  addressed 
to  Philip,  represented  his  own  and  the  soldier's  conduct  in  a 
lively  and  affecting  manner. 

8.  The  king  was  instantly  fired  with  indignation.  He  order- 
ed that  ample  justice  should  be  done  without  delay ;  that  the 
possessions  should  be  immediately  restored  to  the  man  whose 
charitable  offices  had  been  thus  horribly  repaid ;  and,  to  show 
his  abhorrence  of  the  deed,  he  caused  the  soldier  to  be  seized, 
and  to  have  these  words  branded  on  his  forehead — "  The 
Ungrateful  Guest." 


LESSON  XV. 

Parental  Tenderness. 

1.  During  the  Indian  wars  which  preceded  the  American 
revolution,  a  young  English  officer  was  closely  pursued  by  two 
savages,  who  were  on  the  point  of  killing  him,  when  an  aged 
chief  interfered,  took  the  officer  by  the  hand,  encouraged  him 
by  his  caresses,  conducted  him  to  his  hut,  and  treated  him  with 
all  the  kindness  in  his  power. 

2.  The  officer  remained  during  the  winter  Avith  the  old  chief, 
who  taught  him  their  language,  and  the  simple  arts  with  which 
they  were  acquainted.  But  when  spring  returned,  the  savages 
again  took  up  arms,  and  prepared  fora  more  vigorous  campaign. 
The  old  chief  followed  the  young  warriors  until  they  approach- 
ed the  English  camp,  when,  turning  to  the  young  officer,  he 
thus  addressed  him  : 

3.  "  You  see  your  brethren  preparing  to  give  us  battle ;  I 
have  saved  thy  life — I  have  taught  thee  to  make  a  canoe,  a  bow 
and  arrows — to  surprise  the  beasts  of  the  forest — and  to  scalp 
■»  our  enemv ;  wilt  thou  now  be  so  ungrateful  as  to  join  thv 


34  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.] 

countrymen,  and  take  up  the  hatchet  against  us  ?"  The  Eng- 
lishman declared  that  he  would  sooner  perish  himself  than  shed 
the  blood  of  an  Indian. 

4.  The  old  savage  covered  his  face  ^vith  both  his  hands,  and 
bowed  down  his  head.  After  remaining  some  time  in  this  atti- 
tude, he  looked  at  the  young  officer,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  min- 
gled tenderness  and  grief,  "  Hast  thou  a  father  V  "  He  was 
living,"  said  the  young  man,  "  when  I  left  my  native  country." 
"  O  how  unhappy  must  he  be,"  said  the  savage. 

5.  After  a  moment's  silence,  he  added,  "  I  have  been  a  father, 
but  I  am  one  no  longer ;  I  saw  my  son  fall  by  my  side  in  battle. 
But  I  have  avenged  him ;  yes,  I  have  avenged  him,"  said  he  with 
emphasis,  while  he  endeavored  to  suppress  the  groans  which 
escaped  in  spite  of  him.  He  calmed  his  emotions,  and  turning 
towards  the  east,  where  the  sun  was  rising,  he  said,  "  dost  thou 
behold  the  heavens  with  pleasure  ?"  "  I  do,"  responded  the 
young  man.  "  /  do  no  longer,"  said  the  savage,  bursting  into 
tears. 

6.  A  moment  after,  he  added,  "  do  you  look  with  delight 
upon  yonder  beautiful  flower  ?"  '•  I  do,"  answered  the  young 
man.  "/do  no  longer,"  said  the  savage;  and  immediately 
added,  "  Depart  to  thine  own  country,  that  thy  father  may  still 
view  the  rising  sun  with  pleasure,  and  take  delight  in  the  flowers 
of  spring." 


LESSON  XVI. 

No  Rank  or  Possessions  can  make  the  guilty  mind  happy. — 

Cicero. 

1.  DioNYSius,*  the  tyrant  of  Sicily,!  was  far  from  being 
happy,  though  he  possessed  great  riches,  and  all  the  pleasures 
which  wealth  and  power  could  procure.  Damocles,|  one  of 
his  flatterers,  deceived  by  those  specious  appearances  of  happi- 
ness, took  occasion  to  compliment  him  on  the  extent  of  his 
power,  his  treasures,  and  royal  magnificence  :  and  declared  that 
no  monarch  had  ever  been  greater  or  happier  than  Dionysius. 

2.  "  Hast  thou  a  mind,  Damocles,"  says  the  king,  "  to  taste 
this  happiness ;  and  to  know,  by  experience,  what  the  enjoy- 
ments are,  of  which  thou  hast  so  high  an  idea  ?"     Damocles, 

*  Pronounced  Di-on-ish'-e-us.  He  raised  himself  from  obscurity  to  the 
throne — reigned  forty  years — and  died  366  B.C.,  and  was  succeeded  by  his 
son,  Dionysius  II. 

t  Sicily,  an  island  in  the  Mediterranean,  south  of  Italy. 

%  Pronounced  Dam'-o-cles. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  35 

with  joy,  accepted  the  offer.  The  King  ordered  that  a  royal 
banquet  should  be  prepared,  and  a  gilded  sofa,  covered  wdth 
rich  embroidery,  placed  for  his  favorite.  Side-boards,  loaded 
with  gold  and  silver-plate  of  immense  value,  were  arranged  in 
the  apartment. 

3.  Pages*  of  extraordinary  beauty  were  ordered  to  attend 
his  table,  and  to  obey  his  commands  with  the  utmost  readiness 
and  the  most  profound  submission.  Fragrant  ointments,  chap- 
lets  of  flowers,  and  rich  perfumes,  were  added  to  the  entertain- 
ment. The  table  was  loaded  with  the  most  exquisite  delicacies 
of  every  kind.  Damocles,  intoxicated  with  pleasure,  fancied 
himself  amongst  superior  beings. 

4.  But  in  the  midst  of  all  this  happiness,  as  he  lay  indulging 
himself  in  state,  he  sees  let  down  from  the  ceiling,  exactly  over 
his  head,  a  glittering  swordf  hung  by  a  single  hair.  The  sight 
of  impending  destruction  put  a  speedy  end  to  his  joy  and  revel- 
ling. The  pomp  of  his  attendance,  the  glitter  of  the  carved 
plate,  and  the  delicacy  of  the  viands,  cease  to  afford  him  any 
pleasure. 

5.  He  dreads  to  stretch  forth  his  hand  to  the  table. — He 
throws  off  the  garlandj  of  roses.  He  hastens  to  remove  from 
his  dangerous  situation;  and  earnestly  entreats  the  king  to 
restore  him  to  his  former  humble  condition,  having  no  desire  to 
enjoy  any  longer  a  happiness  so  terrible. 

6.  By  this  device,  Dionysius  intimated  to  Damocles,  how 
miserable  he  was  in  the  midst  of  all  his  treasures ;  and  in  pos- 
session of  all  the  honors  and  enjoyments  which  royalty  could 
bestow. 


LESSON  xvn. 

Beauty  and  Deformity. — Percival's  Tales. 

1.  A  YOUTH,  who  lived  in  the  country,  and  who  had  not 
acquired,  either  by  reading  or  conversation,  any  knowledge  of 
the  animals  which' inhabit  foreign  regions,  came  to  Manchester, 
to  see  an  exhibition  of  wild  beasts.  The  size  and  figure  of  the 
elephant  struck  him  with  awe  ;  and  he  viewed  the  rhinoceros 
with  astonishment. 

2.  But  his  attention  was  soon  drawn  from  these  animals,  and 
directed  to  another,  of  the  most  elegant  and  beautiful  form ; 

*  Page,  a  boy  attending  on  a  person  of  distinction,  rather  for  formality,  or 
Bhow,  than  for  servitude, 
t  Pronounced  sord.  X  Garland,  a  wreath,  or  band  of  flowers. 


36  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

and  he  stood  contemplating  with  silent  admiration  the  glossy 
smoothness  of  his  hair,  the  blackness  and  regularity  of  the 
streaks  with  which  he  was  marked,  the  symmetry  of  his  limbs, 
and  above  all,  the  placid  sweetness  of  his  countenance. 

3.  "What  is  the  name  of  this  lovely  animal,"  said  he  to  the 
keeper,  "which  you  have  placed  near  one  of  the  ugliest  beasts 
in  your  collection  ;  as  if  you  meant  to  contrast  beauty  with  de- 
formity ?"  "  Beware,  young  man,"  replied  the  intelligent  keeper, 
"  of  being  so  easily  captivated  with  external  appearance. 

4.  "  The  animal  which  you  admire  is  called  a  tiger ;  and 
notwithstanding  the  meekness  of  his  looks,  he  is  fierce  and  sav- 
age beyond  description  :  I  can  neither  terrify  him  by  correc- 
tion, nor  tame  him  by  indulgence.  But  the  other  beast,  which 
you  despise,  is  in  the  highest  degree  docile,  affectionate,  and 
useful. 

5.  "  For  the  benefit  of  man,  he  traverses  the  sandy  deserts 
of  Arabia,*  where  drink  and  pasture  are  seldom  to  be  found ; 
and  will  continue  six  or  seven  days  without  sustenance,  yet  still 
patient  of  labor.  His  hair  is  manufactured  into  clothing ;  his 
flesh  is  deemed  wholesome  nourishment ;  and  the  milk  of  the 
female  is  much  valued  by  the  Arabs. 

6.  "  The  camel,  therefore,  for  such  is  the  name  given  to 
this  animal,  is  more  worthy  of  your  admiration  than  the  tiger ; 
notwithstanding  the  inelegance  of  his  make,  and  the  two  bunch- 
es upon  his  back.  For  mere  external  beauty  is  of  little  esti- 
mation ;  and  deformity,  when  associated  with  amiable  disposi- 
tions and  useful  qualities,  does  not  preclude  our  respect  and 
approbation." 


LESSON  XVIIL 

The  Discontented  Pendulum. — Jane  Taylor. 

\.  An  old  clock  that  had  stood  for  fifty  years  in  a  farmer's 
kitchen,  without  giving  its  owner  any  cause  of  complaint,  early 
one  summer's  morning,  before  the  family  was  stirring,  sudden- 
ly stopped. 

2.  Upon  this,  the  dial-plate  (if  we  may  credit  the  fable) 
changed  countenance  with  alarm  ;  the  hands  made  a  vain  effort 
to  continue  their  course  ;  the  wheels  remained  motionless  with 
surprise ;  the  weights  hung  speechless ;  each  member  felt  dis- 
posed to  lay  the  blame  on  the  others. 

*  Arabia,  an  extensive  countr}'  in  the  south-west  of  Asia ;  the  inhabitants 
are  a  wandering  people,  called  Arabs. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  37 

3.  At  length,  the  dial  instituted  a  formal  inquiry  as  to  the 
cause  of  the  stagnation — when  hands,  wheels,  weights,  with 
one  voice,  protested  their  innocence. 

4.  But  now  a  faint  tick  was  heard  below  from  the  pendulum, 
who  thus  spoke : — "I  confess  myself  to  be  the  sole  cause  of  the 
present  stoppage;  and  I  am  willing,  for  the  general  satisfaction, 
to  assign  my  reasons.  The  truth  is,  that  I  am  tired  of  ticking." 
Upon  hearing  this,  the  old  clock  became  so  enraged,  that  it  was 
on  the  very  point  of  strikiiig. 

5.  "Lazy  wire!"  exclaimed  the  dial- plate,  holding  up  its 
hands.  "Very  good!"  replied  the  pendulum,  "it  is  vastly 
easy  for  you.  Mistress  Dial,  who  have  always,  as  every  body 
knows,  set  yourself  up  above  me, — it  is  vastly  easy  for  you,  I 
say,  to  accuse  other  people  of  laziness  !  You,  who  hav6  had 
nothing  to  do  all  the  days  of  your  life,  but  to  stare  people  in  the 
face,  and  to  amuse  yourself  with  watching  all  that  goes  on  in 
the  kitchen!  Think,  I  beseech  you,  how  you  would  like  to  be 
shut  up  for  life  in  this  dark  closet,  and  to  \vag  backwards  and 
forwards  year  after  year,  as  I  do." 

6.  "As  to  that,"  said  the  dial,  "is  there  not  a  window  in 
your  house,  on  purpose  for  you  to  look  through?" — "For  all 
that,"  resumed  the  pendulum,  "it  is  very  dark  here;  and, 
although  there  is  a  window,!  dare  not  stop,  even  for  an  instant, 
to  look  out  at  it.  Besides,  I  am  really  tired  of  my  way  of  life; 
and  if  you  wish,  I'll  tell  you  how  I  took  this  disgust  at  my 
employment.  I  happened  this  morning  to  be  calculating  how 
many  times  I  should  have  to  tick  in  the  course  of  only  the  next 
twenty-four  hours ;  perhaps  some  of  you,  above  there,  can  give 
me  the  exact  sum." 

7.  The  minute  hand,  being  q7iick  at  figures,  presently  repli- 
ed, "Eighty-six  thousand  four  hundred  times."  "Exactly  so," 
replied  the  pendulum.  "Well,  I  appeal  to  you  all,  if  the  very 
thought  of  this  w^as  not  enough  to  fatigue  one;  and  when  I 
began  to  multiply  the  strokes  of  one  day,  by  those  of  months 
and  years,  really  it  is  no  wonder  if  I  felt  discouraged  at  the 
prospect ;  so,  after  a  great  deal  of  reasoning  and  hesitation, 
thinks  I  to  myself,  I'll  stop." 

8.  The  dial  could  scarcely  keep  its  countenance  during  this 
harangue;  but  resuming  its  gra^dty,  thus  replied:  "Dear  Mr. 
Pendulum,  I  am  really  astonished  that  such  a  useful,  industrious 
person  as  yourself,  should  have  been  overcome  by  this  sudden 
action.  It  is  true,  you  have  done  a  great  deal  of  work  in  your 
time ;  so  have  we  all,  and  are  likely  to  do ;  which  although  it 
may  fatigue  us  to  think  of,  the  question  is,  whether  it  will  fatigue 

4 


38  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

us  to  do.     Would  you  now  do  me  the  favor  to  give  about  half 
a  dozen  strokes  to  illustrate  my  argument?" 

9.  The  pendulum  complied,  and  ticked  six  times  in  its  usual 
pace.  "  Now,"  resumed  the  dial,  "may  I  be  allowed  to  inquire 
if  that  exertion  was  at  all  fatiguing  or  disagreeable  to  you?" 
"Not  in  the  least,"  replied  the  pendulum,  "it  is  not  of  six 
strokes  that  I  complain,  nor  of  sixty,  but  of  millions. " 

10.  "Very  good,"  replied  the  dial;  "but  recollect,  that 
though  you  may  think  of  a  million  strokes  in  an  instant,  you 
are  required  to  execute  but  one;  and  that,  however  often  you 
may  hereafter  have  to  swing,  a;  moment  will  always  be  given 
you  to  swing  in."  "  That  consideration  staggers  me,  I  confess," 
said  the  pendulum.  "Then  I  hope,"  resumed  the  dial-plate, 
"  we  shall  all  immediately  return  to  our  duty ;  for  the  maids 
will  lie  in  bed  if  we  stand  idlinor  thus." 

11.  Upon  this,  the  weights,  who  had  never  been  accused  of 
light  conduct,  used  all  their  influence  in  urging  him  to  proceed; 
when,  as  with  one  consent,  the  wheels  began  to  turn,  the  hands 
began  to  move,  the  pendulum  began  to  swing,  and  to  its  credit, 
ticked  as  loud  as  ever;  while  a  red  beam  of  the  rising  sun  that 
streamed  through  a  hole  in  the  kitchen,  shining  full  upon  the 
dial-plate,  it  brightened  up,  as  if  nothinjj  had  been  the  matter. 

12.  When  the  farmer  came  down  to  breakfast  that  morning, 
upon  looking  at  the  clock,  he  declared  that  his  watch  had  gained 
half  an  hour  in  the  niorlit. 

MORAL. 

13.  A  celebrated  modern  writer  says,  "Take  care  of  the 
minutes^  and  the  hours  will  take  care  of  themselves."  This  is 
an  admirable  remark,  and  might  be  very  seasonably  recollected 
when  we  Ijcgin  to  be  "  weary  in  well-doing,"  from  the  thought 
of  having  much  to  do. 

14.  The  present  moment  is  all  we  have  to  do  with,  in  any 
sense;  the  past  is  irrecoverable,  the  future  is  uncertain;  nor  is 
it  fair,  to  burden  one  moment  with  the  weight  of  the  next. — 
Sufficient  unto  the  moment  is  the  trouble  thereof 

15.  If  we  had  to  walk  a  hundred  miles,  we  should  still  have 
to  take  but  one  step  at  a  time,  and  this  process  continued,  would 
infallibly  bring  us  to  our  journey's  end.  Faliirue  generally 
begins,  and  is  always  increased,  by  calculating  in  a  minute  the 
exertion  of  hours. 

16.  Thus,  in  looking  forward  to  future  life,  let  us  recollect 
that  we  have  not  to  sustain  all  its  toil,  to  endure  all  its  suffer- 
ings, or  encounter  all  its  crosses,  at  once.    One  moment  comes 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  3^ 

laden  with  its  own  little  burdens,  then  flies,  and  is  succeeded  by 
another  no  heavier  than  the  last: — if  one  could  be  borne,  so  can 
another  and  another. 

17.  Even  looking  forward  to  a  single  day,  the  spirit  may 
sometimes  faint  from  an  anticipation  of  the  duties,  the  labors, 
the  trials  to  temper  and  patience,  that  may  be  expected.  Now 
this  is  unjustly  laying  the  burden  of  many  thousand  moments 
upon  one. 

18.  Let  any  one  resolve  always  to  do  right  now^  leaving  then 
to  do  as  it  can ;  and  if  he  were  to  live  to  the  age  of  Methuselah, 
he  would  never  do  Avrong.  But  the  common  error  is  to  resolve 
to  act  right  after  breakfast,  or  after  dinner,  or  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, or  next  time;  but  now,  just  7iow,  this  once,  we  must  go  on 
the  same  as  ever. 

19.  It  is  easy,  for  instance,  for  the  most  ill-tempered  person 
to  resolve  that  the  next  time  he  is  provoked,  he  will  not  let  his 
temper  overcome  him  ;  but  the  victory  would  be  to  ©ubdue  tem- 
per on  the  present  provocation.  If,  without  taking  up  the  bur- 
den of  the  future,  wc  would  always  make  the  single  effort  at  the 
present  moment;  while  there  would,  at  any  one  time,  be  very 
little  to  do,  yet,  by  this  simple  process  continued,  everything 
would  at  last  be  done. 

20.  Itseemseasier  to  do  right  to-morrow  than  to-day,  merely 
because  we  forget  that  when  to-morrow  comes  then  will  be  now. 
Thus  life  passes  with  many,  in  resolutions  for  the  future,  which 
the  present  never  fulfils.  It  is  not  thus  with  those,  who,  "  by 
patient  continuance  inwell-doirig,  seek  for  glory,  honor,  and 
immortality." 

21.  Day  by  day,  minute  by  minute,  they  execute  the  appoint- 
ed task,  to  which  the  requisite  measure  of  time  and  strength  is 
proportioned  ;  and  thus,  having  worked  while  it  was  called  day, 
the)'  at  length  rest  from  their  labors,  and  their  works  "  follow 
them."  Let  us,  then,  "  whatever  our  hands  find  to  do,  do  it 
with  all  our  might,  recollecting  that  noiu  is  the  proper  and 
accepted  time." 


LESSON  XIX. 

Battle  of  Lexington* — Weems. 

1.  April  the  19th,  1775,  was  the  fatal  day  marked  out  by 
mysterious  heaven,  for  tearing  away  the  stout  infant  colonies 

♦Lexington,  a  town  in  Massachusetts,  11  miles  N.  W.  of  Boston, 


40  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

from  the  old  mother  country.  Early  that  morning;,  General 
Gage,*  whose  force  in  Boston  was  augmented  to  10,000  men, 
sent  a  detachment  of  1,000  to  destroy  some  military  stores 
which  the  Americans  had  collected  in  the  town  of  Concord, 
near  Lexington. 

2.  On  coming  to  the  place,  they  found  the  town  militia  assem- 
bled on  the  green  near  the  road.  "  Throw  down  your  arms,  and 
disperse.,  you  rebels,''''  was  the  cry  of  the  British  officer,  (Pit- 
cairn,)  which  was  immediately  followed  by  a  general  discharge 
from  the  soldiers  ;  whereby  eight  of  the  Americans  were  killed, 
and  several  wounded. 

3.  The  provincials!  retired.  But  finding  that  the  British  still 
continued  their  fire,  they  returned  it  with  good  interest ;  and 
soon  strewedj  the  green  with  the  dead  and  wounded.  Such 
fierce  discharges  of  musketry  produced  the  effect  that  might 
have  been  expected  in  a  land  of  freemen,  who  saw  their  gal- 
lant brothei's  suddenly  engaged  in  the  strife  of  death. 

4.  Never  before  had  the  bosoms  of  the  swains  experienced 
such  a  tumult  of  heroic  passions.  Then  throwing  aside  the 
implements  of  husbandry,  and  leaving  their  teams  in  the  half 
finished  furrows,  they  flew  to  their  houses,  snatched  up  their 
arms,  and  bursting  from  their  wild  shrieking  wives  and  chil- 
dren, hasted  to  the  glorious  field  where  Liberty,  heaven-born 
goddess,  was  to  be  bought  with  blood. 

5.  Pouring  in  now  from  every  quarter,  were  seen  crowds  of 
sturdy  peasants,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  flaming  eyes,  eager 
for  battle  !  Even  age  itself  forgot  its  wonted  infirmities :  and 
hands,  long  palsied  with  years,  threw  aside  the  cushioned  crutch 
and  grasped  the  deadly  firelock.  Fast  as  they  came  up,  ihcir 
ready  muskets  began  to  pour  the  long,  red  streams  of  fiery 
vengeance. 

6.  The  enemy  fell  back  appalled  !  The  shouting  farmers, 
swift-closing  on  their  rear,  followed  their  steps  with  deatli, 
while  the  British,  as  fast  as  they  could  load,  wheeling  on  their 
pursuers,  returned  the  deadly  fire.  But  their  flight  was  not  in 
safety.     Every  step  of  their  retreat  was  stained  with  blood — 

*  Thomais  Gage  was  an  officer  of  some  distinction  in  tlie  British  army. — 
He  was  appointed  Governor  of  Massachusetts  in  1774,  and  soon  began  that 
course  of  illegal  and  oppressive  acts  which  brought  on  the  war  of  the  rc^  olu- 
tion.  Soon  after  the  commencement  of  the  war,  he  returned  to  England, 
where  he  died,  1787.  He  was  the  last  Governor  of  Massachusetts  appoint- 
ed by  the  King. 

t  Provincials,  those  troops  raised  in  the  provinces,  and  sent  to  oppo-se  the 
British  army. 
1^  %  Pronounced  strowd. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  41 

every  hedge  or  fence  by  which  they  passed,  concealed  a  deadly 
foe. 

6.  They  would,  in  all  probability,  have  been  cut  off  to  a  man, 
had  not  General  Gage  luckily  recollected,  that  horn  of  Bri- 
tons, these  Yankees  might  possess  some  of  the  family  valor, 
and  therefore  sent  1000  men  to  support  the  detachment.  This 
reinforcement  met  the  poor  fellows,  faint  with  fear  and  fatigue, 
and  brought  them  safely  off  to  Boston. 


LESSON  XX. 

Battle  of  BuJiker^s  Hill. — Charles  Botta. 

1.  Whether  he  was  deceived  by  the  resemblance  of  name, 
or  from  some  other  motive  unknown.  Colonel  Prescott,  instead 
of  repairing  to  the  heights*  of  Bunker's  Hill  to  fortify  himself 
there,  advanced  further  on  in  the  peninsula,  and  immediately 
commenced  his  intrenchments  upon  the  heights  of  Breed's  Hill, 
another  eminence,  which  overlooks  Charlestown,t  and  is  situa- 
ted towards  the  extremity  of  the  peninsula,  nearer  to  Boston. 

2.  The  works  were  pushed  with  so  much  ardor,  that  the 
following  morning,  by  day-break,  the  Americans  had  already 
constructed  a  square  redout,;};  capable  of  affording  them  some 
shelter  from  the  enemy's  fire.  The  labor  had  been  conducted 
with  such  silence,  that  the  Englisli  had  no  suspicion  of  what 
was  passing.  It  was  about  four  in  the  morning,  when  the  cap- 
tain of  a  ship  of  war  first  perceived  it,  and  began  to  play  his 
artillery.  The  report  of  the  cannon  attracted  a  multitude  of 
spectators  to  the  shore. 

3.  The  English  Generals  doubted  the  testimony  of  their 
senses.  Meanwhile  the  thing  appeared  too  important  not  to 
endeavor  to  dislodge  the  provincials,  or,  at  least,  to  prevent 
them  from  completing  the  fortification  commenced  ;  for,  as  the 
height  of  Breed's  Hill  absolutely  commands  Boston,  the  town 
was  no  longer  tenable,  if  the  Americans  erected  a  battery  upon 
this  eminence. 

4.  The  Englislil  therefore,  opened  a  general  fire  of  the  artil- 
lery of  the  town,  of  the  fleet,  and  of  the  floating  batteries  sta- 
tioned around  the  peninsulas-of  Boston.  It  hailed  a  tempest 
of  bombs  and  balls  upon  the  works  of  the  Americans — they 

*  Pronounced  hites. 

t  Charlestown  is  one  mile  north  of  Boston,  and  is  connected  with  it  by  a 
bridge  across  Charles  river. 
t  Redout,  a  small  square  fort,  without  defence,  except  in  front. 

4# 


42  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

were  especially  incommoded  by  the  fire  of  a  battery  planted 
upon  an  eminence  named  Cop's  Hill,  which,  situated  within  the 
town,  forms  a  species  of  tower  in  front  of  Breed's  Hill.  But 
all  this  was  without  effect. 

5.  The  Americans  continued  to  work  the  whole  day,  with 
unshaken  constancy ;  and  towards  night,  they  had  already 
much  advanced  a  trench,  which  descended  from  the  redout  to 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  almost  to  the  bank  of  Mystic  river. — 
The  fury  of  the  enemy's  artillery,  it  is  true,  had  prevented  them 
from  carrying  it  to  perfection. 

6.  In  this  conjuncture,  there  remained  no  other  hope  for  the 
English  Generals,  but  in  attempting  an  assault,  to  drive  the 
Americans,  by  dint  of  force,  from  this  formidable  position. — 
This  resolution  was  takeji  without  hesitation ;  and  it  was  fol- 
lowed, the  17th  of  June,  1775,  by  the  action  of  Breed's  Hill, 
known  also  by  the  name  of  Bunker's  Hill ;  much  renowned  for 
the  intrepidity,  not  to  say  the  temerity,  of  the  parties ;  for  the 
number  of  the  dead  and  wounded  ;  and  for  the  etlect  it  ])ro- 
duced  upon  the  opinions  of  men,  in  regard  to  the  valor  of  the 
Americans,  and  the  probable  issue  of  the  whole  war. 

7.  Between  mid-day  and  one  o'clock,  the  heat  being  intense, 
all  was  motion  in  the  British  camp.  A  multitude  of  sloops  and 
boats,  filled  with  soldiers,  left  the  shore  of  Boston,  and  stood 
for  Charlestown;  they  landed  at  Moreton's  Point,  without 
meeting  resistance  ;  as  the  ships  of  war  and  armed  vessels  ef- 
fectually protected  the  debarkation  with  the  fire  of  their  artil- 
lery, which  forced  the  enemy  to  keep  within  his  intrenchments. 

8.  This  corps*  consisted  of  ten  companies  of  grenadiers,  as 
many  of  light  infantry,  and  a  proportionate  artillery  ;  the  whole 
under  the  command  of  Major-General  Howe,t  and  Brigadier- 
General  Pigot.  The  troops,  on  landing,  began  to  dis})lay,  the 
light  infantry  upon  the  right,  the  grenadiers  upon  the  left ;  but, 
having  observed  the  strength  of  the  position,  and  the  good 
countenance  of  the  Americans,  General  Howe  made  a  halt,  and 
sent  to  call  a  reinforcement. 

9.  The  English  formed  themselves  in  two  columns.  Their 
plan  was,  that  the  left  wing,  under  General  Pinot,  should  attack 
the  provincials  in  Charlestown ;  while  the  centre  assaulted  the 
redout ;  and  the  right  wing,  consisting  of  light  infantry,  should 
force  the  passage  near  the  river  Mystic,  and  thus  assail  the 

*  Pronounced  kore, — a  body  of  armed  men. 

t  General  William  Howe,  a  brother  of  Lord  Richard  Howe,  the  Admiral 
of  the  British  fleet.  He  succeeded  General  Gage  in  the  command  of  the 
British  army,  October  10,  1775. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  43 

Americans  in  flank  and  rear ;  which  would  give  the  EngUsh 
complete  victory. 

10.  It  appears,  also,  that  General  Gage  had  formed  the  de- 
sign of  setting  lire  to  Charlestown,  when  evacuated  by  the  ene- 
my, in  order  that  the  corps,  destined  to  assail  the  redout,  thus 
protected  by  the  flame  and  smoke,  might  be  less  exposed  to 
the  Are  of  the  provincials. 

11.  The  dispositions  having  been  all  completed,  the  Eng- 
lish put  themselves  in  motion.  The  provincials,  that  were 
stationed  to  defend  Charlestown,  fearing  lest  the  assailants 
should  penetrate  between  this  town  and  the  redout,  and  thus 
find  themselves  cut  oft"  from  the  rest  of  the  army,  retreated. 

12.  The  English  immediately  entered  tlie  town  and  fired  the 
buildings — as  they  were  of  wood,  in  a  moment  the  combustion 
became  general.  They  continued  a  slow  march  against  the 
redout  and  trench  ;  halting,  from  time  to  time,  for  the  artillery 
to  come  up,  and  act  with  some  eflect,  previous  to  the  assault. 
The  flames  and  smoke  of  Charlestown  were  of  no  use  to  them, 
as  the  wind  turned  them  in  a  contrary  direction. 

13.  Their  gradual  advance,  and  the  extreme  clearness  of  the 
air,  permitted  the  Americans  to  level  their  muskets.  They, 
however,  suflered  the  enemy  to  approach,  before  they  com- 
menced their  fire  ;  and  waited  for  the  assault,  in  profound  tran- 
quillity. It  would  be  difficult  to  paint  the  scene  of  terror  pre- 
sented by  these  circumstances. 

14.  A  large  town,  all  enveloped  in  flames,  which,  excited  by 
a  violent  wind,  rose  to  an  immense  height,  and  spread  every 
moment  more  and  more ;  an  innumerable  multitude,  rushing 
from  all  parts,  to  witness  so  unusual  a  spectacle,  and  see  the 
issue  of  the  sanguinary  conflict  that  was  about  to  commence. 

15.  The  Bostonians,  and  soldiers  of  the  garrison,  not  in  ac- 
tual service,  were  mounted  upon  the  spires,  upon  the  roofs,  and 
upon  the  heights.  The  hills,  and  circumjacent  fields,  from 
which  the  dread  arena  could  be  viewed  in  safety,  were  covered 
with  swarms  of  spectators,  of  every  rank,  and  age,  and  sex  ; 
each  agitated  by  fear  or  hope,  according  to  the  party  he 
espoused. 

16.  The  English,  having  advanced  within  reach  of  the  mus- 
ketry, the  Americans  showered  upon  them  a  volley  of  bullets. 
This  terrible  fire  was  so  well  supported,  and  so  well  directed, 
that  the  ranks  of  the  assailants  were  soon  thinned  and  broken — 
they  retired,  in  disorder,  to  the  place  of  their  landing — some 
threw  themselves  precipitately  into  the  boats.  The  field  of 
battle  was  covered  with  the  slain. 


44  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

17.  The  officers  were  seen  running  hither  and  thither,  with 
promises,  with  exhortations,  and  with  menaces,  attempting  to 
rally  the  soldiers,  and  inspirit  them  for  a  second  attack.  Final- 
ly, after  the  most  painful  eftbrts,  they  resumed  their  ranks,  and 
marched  up  to  the  enemy.  The  Americans  reserved  their  fire 
as  before,  until  their  approach,  and  received  them  with  the 
same  deluge  of  balls.  The  English,  overwhelmed  and  routed, 
again  fled  to  the  shore. 

18.  In  this  perilous  moment.  General  Howe  remained  for 
some  time  alone  upon  the  field  of  battle — all  the  officers,  who 
surrounded  him,  were  killed  or  wounded.  It  is  related,  that, 
at  this  critical  conjuncture,  upon  which  depended  the  issue  of 
the  day.  General  Clinton,*  who,  from  Cop's  Hill,  examined  all 
the  movements,  on  seeing  the  destruction  of  his  troops,  imme- 
diately resolved  to  fly  to  their  succor. 

19.  This  experienced  commander,  by  an  able  movement, 
re-established  order  ;  and  seconded  by  tlie  oflicers,  -who  felt  all 
the  importance  of  success  to  English  honor  and  the  course  of 
events,  he  led  the  troops  to  a  third  attack.  It  was  directed 
against  the  redout  at  three  several  points. 

20.  The  artillery  of  the  ships  not  only  prevented  all  reinforce- 
ments from  coming  to  the  Americans,  by  the  isthmus  of  Charles- 
town,  but  even  uncovered,  and  SAvept  the  interior  of  the  trencli, 
which  was  battered  in  front  at  the  same  time.  The  anmiuni- 
tion  of  the  Americans  Avas  nearly  exhausted,  and  they  could 
have  no  hopes  of  a  recruit.  Their  fire  must,  of  necessity, 
languish. 

21.  Meanwhile,  the  English  had  advanced  to  the  foot  of  the 
redout.  The  provincials,  destitute  of  bayonets,  defended  them- 
selves valiantly  with  the  butt  end  of  their  muskets.  But  the 
redout  being  already  full  of  enemies,  the  American  General 
gave  the  signal  of  retreat,  and  drew  off  his  men. 

22.  AVhile  the  left  wing  and  centre  of  the  English  army  were 
thus  engaged,  the  light  infantry  had  impetuously  attacked  the 
])alisades,  which  the  provincials  had  erected,  in  haste,  upon  the 
bank  of  the  river  Mystic.  On  the  one  side,  and  on  the  other, 
the  combat  was  obstinate  ;  and  if  the  assault  was  furious,  the 
resistance  was  not  feeble. 

23.  In  spite  of  all  the  efforts  of  the  royal  troops,  the  provin- 
cials still  maintained  the  battle  in  this  part ;  and  had  no  thoughts 

*  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  a  British  General  during  a  greater  part  of  the  Revo- 
lutionary war,  was  the  son  of  George  Clinton,  one  of  the  colonial  governors 
of  New- York.  He  returned  to  England  in  1782,  and  was  made  governor  of 
Gibraltar  in  1795,  where  he  soon  died. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  45 

of  retiring,  until  they  saw  the  redout  and  upper  part  of  the 
trench  were  in  the  power  of  the  enemy.  Their  retreat  was 
executed  with  an  order  not  to  haA^e  been  expected  from  new 
levied  soldiers.  This  strenuous  resistance  of  the  left  wing  of 
the  American  army  was,  in  etFect,  the  salvation  of  the  rest ;  for, 
if  it  had  given  ground  but  a  few  instants  sooner,  the  enemy's 
light  infantry  would  have  taken  the  main  body  and  right  wing 
in  the  rear,  and  their  situation  would  have  been  hopeless. 

24.  But  the  Americans  had  not  yet  reached  the  term  of  their 
toils  and  dangers.  The  only  way  that  remained  of  retreat  was 
by  the  isthnms  of  Charlestown ;  and  the  English  had  placed 
there  a  ship  of  war  and  two  floating  batteries,  the  balls  of  which 
raked  every  part  of  it.  The  Americans,  however,  issued  from 
the  peninsula,  without  any  considerable  loss. 

25.  It  was  during  the  retreat  that  Dr.  Warren*  received  his 
death.  Finding  the  corps  he  commanded  hotly  pursued  by  the 
enemy,  despising  all  danger,  he  stood  alone  before  the  ranks, 
endeavouring  to  rally  his  troops,  and  to  encourage  them  by  his 
own  example.  He  reminded  them  of  the  mottos  inscribed  on 
their  ensigns  ;  on  one  side  of  which  were  these  words — "  An 
Appeal  to  Heaven ;"  and  on  the  other — "  Qui  transtulit,  sus- 
tinet  ;"  meaning  the  same  providence  which  brought  their 
ancestors  through  so  many  perils,  to  a  place  of  refuge,  would 
also  deign  to  support  their  descendants. 

26.  An  English  officer  perceived  Dr.  Warren,  and  knew 
him ;  he  borrowed  the  musket  of  one  of  his  soldiers,  and  hit 

^him  with  a  ball,  either  in  the  head  or  in  the  breast.  He  fell 
dead  upon  the  spot.  Tlie  Americans  were  apprehensive  lest 
the  English,  availing  themselves  of  victory,  should  sally  out  of 
the  peninsula,  and  attack  the  head  quarters  at  Cambridge. 

27.  But  they  contented  themselves  with  taking  possession  of 
Bunker's  Hill,  where  they  entrenched  themselves,  in  order  to 
guard  the  entrance  of  the  neck  against  any  new  enterprise  on 
the  part  of  the  enemy.  The  provincials,  having  the  same  sus- 
picion, fortified  Prospect  Hill,  which  is  situated  at  the  mouth  of 
the  isthmus,  on  the  side  of  the  main  land. 

*  Joseph  Warren  was  bora  in  Roxbury,  Massachusetts,  in  1740.  He 
studied  medicine,  and  became  eminent  in  the  profession.  He  distinguished 
himself,  at  an  early  period,  by  a  zealous  opposition  to  the  unjust  measures 
of  the  British  government  toward  the  colonies.  He  was  bold,  ardent,  deci- 
sive, eloquent,  and  accomplished  in  literature,  and  soon  rose  to  the  first  place 
in  the  esteem  and  confidence  of  his  fellow  citizens.  Four  days  previous  to 
the  battle  of  Bunker's  Hill,  he  was  appointed  a  Major-General  in  the  Amer- 
ican army,  and  on  the  day  of  that  battle,  to  encourage  the  soldiers  within  the 
lines,  he  joined  them  as  a  volunteer.  He  was  killed  in  the  35th  year  of  his  age. 


46  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

28.  But  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  were  disposed  to  haz- 
ard any  new  movement ;  the  first,  discouraged  by  the  loss  of  so 
many  men,  and  the  second,  by  that  of  the  field  of  battle  and  the 
peninsula.  The  pro\dncials  had  to  regret  five  pieces  of  cannon, 
with  a  great  number  of  utensils,  employed  in  fortifications,  and 
no  little  camp  equipage. 

29.  General  Howe  was  greatly  blamed  by  some,  for  having 
chosen  to  attack  the  Americans,  by  directing  his  battery  in  front 
against  the  fortifications  upon  Breed's  Hill,  and  the  trench  that 
descended  towards  the  sea',  on  the  part  of  Mystic  river. 

30.  It  was  thought,  that  if  he  had  landed  a  respectable  de- 
tachment upon  the  Isthmus  of  Charlestown,  an  operation  which 
the  assistance  of  the  ships  of  war  and  floating  batteries  would 
have  rendered  perfectly  easy  to  him,  it  would  have  compelled 
the  Americans  to  evacuate  the  peninsula,  without  the  necessity 
of  coming  to  a  sanguinary  engagement. 

31.  They  would  thus,  in  effect,  have  been  deprived  of  all 
communication  with  their  camp,  situated  without  the  peninsula, 
and,  on  the  part  of  the  sea,  they  could  have  hoped  for  no  retreat, 
as  it  was  commanded  by  the  English. 

32.  In  this  mode,  the'  desired  object  would,  therefore,  have 
been  obtained  without  the  sacrifice  of  men.  Such,  it  is  said, 
was  the  plan  of  General  Clinton  ;  but  it  Avas  rejected,  so  great 
was  the  confidence  reposed  in  the  bravery  and  discipline  of  the 
English  soldiers,  and  in  the  cowardice  of  the  Americans. 

33.  The  first  of  these  opinions  was  not,  in  truth,  without 
foundation ;  but  the  second  was  absolutely  chimerical,  and 
evinced  more  of  intellectual  darkness  in  the  English,  than  of 
prudence,  and  just  notions  upon  a  state  of  things.  By  this  fatal 
error,  the  bravery  of  the  Americans  was  confirmed ;  the  Eng- 
lish army  debilitated  ;  the  spirit  of  the  soldiers,  and  perhaps 
the  final  event  of  the  whole  contest,  decided. 


LESSON  XXI. 

Application, 

1.  Since  the  days  that  are  past  are  gone  for  ever,  and  those 
that  are  to  come  may  not  come  to  thee ;  it  behoveth  thee,  O 
man,  to  employ  the  present  time,  without  regretting  the  loss  of 
that  which  is  past,  or  too  much  depending  on  that  which  is  to 
come. 

2.  This  instant  is  thine ;  the  next  is  in  the  bosom  of  futurity, 
and  thou  knowest  not  what  it  may  bring  forth.     Whatsoever 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  m 

thou  resolvest  to  do,  do  it  quickly ;  defer  not  until  evening 
what  the  morning  may  accomplish. 

3.  Idleness  is  the  parent  of  want  and  of  pain ;  but  the  labor 
of  \artue  bringeth  forth  pleasure.  The  hand  of  diligence  de- 
feateth  want ;  prosperity  and  success  are  th^  industrious  man's 
attendants. 

4.  Who  is  he  that  hath  acquired  wealth,  that  hath  risen  to 
power,  that  hath  clothed  himself  with  honor,  that  is  spoken  of 
in  the  city  with  praise,  and  tlmt  standeth  before  the  king  in  his 
council  ?  Even  he  that  hath  shut  out  idleness  from  his  house  ; 
and  hath  said  to  sloth — thou  art  my  enemy. 

5.  He  riseth  up  early,  and  lieth  down  late ;  he  exerciseth 
his  mind  with  contemplation,  and  his  body  with  action ;  and 
preserveth  the  health  of  both. 

6.  The  slothful  man  is  a  burden  to  himself ;  his  hours  hang 
heavy  on  his  head  ;  he  loitereth  about ;  and  knoweth  not  what 
he  would  do.  His  days  pass  away  like  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  ; 
he  leaveth  behind  him  no  mark  for  remembrance. 

7.  His  body  is  diseased  for  want  of  exercise  ;  he  wisheth  for 
action,  but  hath  not  power  to  move.  His  mind  is  in  darkness ; 
his  thoughts  are  confused  ;  he  longeth  for  knowledge,  but  hath 
no  application.  He  would  eat  of  the  almond,  but  hateth  the 
trouble  of  breaking  the  shell. 

8.  His  house  is  in  disorder ;  his  servants  are  wasteful  and 
riotous ;  and  he  runneth  on  towards  ruin ;  he  seeth  it  with  his 
eyes  ;  he  heareth  it  with  his  ears  ;  he  shaketh  his  head  and 
wisheth  ;  but  hath  no  resolution ;  until  ruin  cometh  upon  him 
like  a  whirlwind ;  and  shame  and  repentance  descend  with  him 
to  the  grave. 

LESSON  XXII. 

The  Short7?ess  of  Life, 

1.  We  see  the  grass  fall  by  the  mower's  scythe,  and  the  gay 
flowers  that  adorn  the  meadows,  unregarded,  swept  away.  The 
green,  the  yellow,  the  crimson,  the  succulent,  fall  undistinguish- 
ed before  the  fatal  instrument  that  cuts  them  off.  They  are 
scattered  on  the  ground,  and  withered  by  the  intense  heat  of  the 
day. 

2.  That  blooming  flower  which  stands  the  pride  of  the  ver- 
dant field,  glowing  in  beautiful  colors,  and  shining  with  the  dawn 
of  the  morning,  ere  the  sun  gains  its  meridian  height,  falls  a 
sacrifice  to  the  severing  steel,  and  fades  in  the  scorching  rays  of 
noon. 


48  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

3.  Thus  is  it  with  human  life — The  thread  is  cut,  and  man 
falls  into  the  silent  tomb.  Nothing  can  ward  off  the  fatal  stroke  ; 
the  aged,  old  and  infirm — manhood,  in  strength  and  vigor — 
youth,  in  bloom  and  beauty — the  infant,  weak  and  helpless,  are 
without  distinction  swept  away  by  the  scythe  of  the  great  de- 
stroyer, Death. 

4.  The  active  youth,  who  in  the  morning  rises  with  health 
and  vivacity,  may  at  noon  lie  pale  and  motionless,  at  the  feet  of 
this  great  victor ;  and  at  the  setting  of  the  morrow's  sun,  be 
consigned  to  the  dark  and  lonesome  mansions  of  the  dead. 
Cities  and  nations  are  subject  to  the  same  fate. 

5.  How  soon  is  a  flourishing  town  depopulated  by  a  pestilen- 
tial disease.  How  soon  is  a  nation  cut  off  by  the  raging  of  a 
direful  war. 

"  O  !  that  mine  head  were  waters,  and  mine  eyes 
"  Were  fountains  flowing  like  the  liquid  skies  ; 
"  Then  would  I  give  the  mighty  flood  release, 
"  And  weep  a  deluge  for  the  human  race." 


LESSON  XXHL 

The  Faithful  Greyhound, — M.  Dwight. 

1.  The  story  on  which  the  following  ballad  is  founded  is 
traditionary.  In  a  village  at  the  foot  of  Snowdon,*  Lewellyn 
the  Great  had  a  house.  His  father-in-law.  King  John,  had 
made  him  a  present  of  a  hound  named  Gelert — a  dog  of  extra- 
ordinary qualities,  both  in  the  family  and  in  the  chase. 

2.  On  one  occasion  he  staid  away  from  the  chase,  as  it 
would  seem  by  instinct,  that  he  might  prove  to  be  guardian  of 
a  young  son  of  his  master.  On  returning  from  the  hunt, 
Lewellyn  was  met  by  Gelert,  who  fawned  upon  him,  as  usual, 
but  was  covered  with  blood. 

3.  Alarmed  at  the  spectacle,  the  master  pressed  onward  to 
the  spot  where  his  child's  bed  was  placed,  which  he  found 
overturned,  and  the  covering  and  floor  stained  with  blood, 
but  no  child  to  be  seen. 

4.  After  calling  with  a  frantic  voice,  but  receiving  no  an- 
swer, believing  that  Gelert  had  destroyed  him,  he  plunged  his 
sword  into  the  heart  of  the  faithful  animal,  who  cast  a  piteous 
look  at  his  master,  gave  a  single  yell,  and  expired. 

*  Snowdon,  a  mountain  in  Wales,  3,571  feet  liigh  above  the  level  of  the 
sea. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  49 

5.  The  dying  cry  of  the  dog  aroused  the  infant,  and  Lewel- 
IjTi,  hearing  a  noise,  upon  examining  the  bed-clothes  which 
were  lying  near  in  a  heap,  he  there  found  his  son,  who  had  just 
wakened  from  sleep,  entirely  safe  and  unhurt,  while  close  by 
him  lay  the  dead  body  of  a  hideous  wolf,  who  had  been  killed 
by  the  faithful  Gelert,  while  in  the  act  of  attempting  to  destroy 
the  life  of  the  child. 

6.  Lewellyn  was  struck  with  horror  at  the  spectacle  be- 
fore him — after  giving  vent  to  his  grief  for  the  rash  act  of  de- 
stroying the  preserver  of  his  son,  he  raised  a  splendid  tomb 
over  Gelert.  The  place  still  goes  by  the  name  of  "  Beth  Ge- 
lert,^^  or  Gelert's  Grav^e. 

Beth  Gelert,  or  the  Grave  of  the  Greyhound. — W.  Spencer. 

1.  The  spearman  heard  the  bugle  sound, 
And  cheerly  smiled  the  morn. 

And  many  a  dog  and  many  a  hound 
Obey'd  Lewellyn' s  horn. 

2.  And  still  he  blew  a  louder  blast, 
And  gave  a  lustier  cheer, 

"  Come  Gelert,  thou  wert  ne'er  the  last 
"  Lewellyn's  horn  to  hear. 

3.  "  Oh,  where  does  faithful  Gelert  roam, 
"  The  flower  of  all  his  race? 

"  So  true,  so  brave,  a  lamb  at  home, 
"A  lion  in  the  chase  !" 

4.  'Twas  only  at  Lewellyn's  board 
The  faithful  Gelert  fed  ; 

He  watch'd,  he  serv'd,  he  cheer'd  his  lord, 
And  sentinel'd  his  bed. 

5.  In  sooth  he  was  a  peerless  hound. 
The  gift  of  Royal  John  ;* 

But  now,  no  Gelert  could  be  found. 
And  all  the  chase  rode  on. 

6.  And  now,  as  o'er  the  rocks  and  dells. 
The  gallant  chidings  rise. 

All  Snowdon's  craggy  chaos  yells 
The  many  mingled  cries. 

*  John,  king  of  England,  A,  D.  1199. 

5 


60  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

7.  That  day  Lewellyn  little  loved 
The  chase  of  hart  or  hare, 

And  scant  and  small  the  booty  proved— 
For  Gelert  was  not  there. 

8.  Unpleased  Lewellyn  homeward  hied ; 
When,  near  the  portal  seat. 

His  truant  Gelert  he  espied, 
Bounding  his  lord  to  greet. 

9.  But  when  he  gained  his  castle  door, 
Aghast  the  chieftain  stood  ; 

The  hound  all  o'er  was  smeared  with  gore. 
His  lips,  his  fangs  ran  blood. 

10.  Lewellyn  gazed  with  fierce  surprise ; 
Unused  such  looks  to  meet, 

His  favorite  checked  his  joyful  guise, 
And  crouched  and  licked  his  feet. 

11.  Onward  in  haste  Lewellyn  past, 
And  on  went  Gelert  too, 

And  still  where'er  his  eyes  he  cast. 
Fresh  blood  drops  shocked  his  view. 

12.  O'erturned  his  infant's  bed  he  found 
With  blood  stained  covert  rent ; 
And  all  around  the  walls  and  ground, 
With  recent  blood  besprent. 

13.  He  called  his  child — no  voice  replied ; 
He  searched  with  terror  wild  : 
Blood,  blood  he  found  on  every  side, 
But  no  where  found  his  child. 

14.  "  Vile  brute !  my  child  by  thee's  devoured," 
The  frantic  father  cried. 

And  to  the  hilt  his  vengeful  sword 
He  plunged  in  Gelert's  side. 

15.  His  suppliant  looks,  as  prone  he  fell, 
No  pity  could  impart, 

But  still  his  Gelert's  dying  yell 
Passed  heavy  o'er  his  heart. 

16.  Aroused  by  Gelert's  dying  yell. 
Some  slumberer  wakened  nigh. 
What  words  the  parent's  joy  could  tell, 
To  hear  his  infant  cry. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  51 

17.  Conceal'd  beneath  a  tumbled  heap,' 
His  hurried  search  had  miss'd ; 
All  glowing  from  his  rosy  sleep, 
The  cherub  boy  he  kiss'd. 

18.  No  wound  had  he,  nor  harm,  nor  dread ; 
But  the  same  couch  beneath, 

Lay  a  gaunt  wolf,  all  torn  and  dead. 
Tremendous  still  in  death. 

19.  Ah,  what  was  then  Lewellyn's  pain? 
For  now  the  truth  was  clear ; 

.His  gallant  hound  the  wolf  had  slain, 
To  save  Lewellyn's  heir. 

20.  Vain,  vain  was  all  Lewellyn's  wo :  • 
Best  of  thy  kind,  adieu  ! 

The  frantic  blow  that  laid  thee  low, 
This  heart  shall  ever  rue. 

21.  And  now  a  gallant  tomb  they  raise. 
With  costly  sculpture  deck'd  ; 
And  marble,  storied  with  his  praise. 
Poor  Gelert's  bones  protect. 

22.  There,  never  could  the  spearman  pass. 
Or  forester,  unmoved ; 

There,  oft  the  tear-besprinkled  grass 
Lewellyn's  sorrow  proved. 

23.  And  there  he  hung  his  horn  and  spear. 
And  there,  as  evening  fell. 

In  fancy's  ear,  he  oft  would  hear. 
Poor  Gelert's  dying  yell. 

24.  And  'till  great  Snowdon's  rocks  grow  old, 
And  cease  the  storm  to  brave, 

The  consecrated  spot  shall  hold 

The  name  of  "  Gelert's  Grave."  -     . 


LESSON  XXIV. 

Mortality. — Barbauld. 

1.  Child  of  mortality,  whence  comest  thou?  why  is  thy 
countenance  sad,  and  why  are  thine  eyes  red  with  weeping  ? — 
I  have  seen  the  rose  in  its  beauty ;  it  spread  its  leaves  to  the 


52  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

morning  sun.  I  returned  :  it  was  dying  upon  its  stalk ;  the 
grace  of  the  form  of  it  was  gone :  its  loveliness  was  vanished 
away ;  its  leaves  were  scattered  on  the  ground,  and  no  one 
gathered  them  again. 

3.  A  stately  tree  grew  on  the  plain ;  its  branches  were  cov- 
ered with  verdure  ;  its  boughs  spread  wide,  and  made  a  goodly 
shadow ;  the  trunk  was  like  a  strong  pillar ;  the  roots  were  like 
crooked  fangs.  I  returned  :  the  verdure  was  nipt  by  the  east 
wind ;  the  branches  were  lopt  away  by  the  ax  ;  the  worm  had 
made  its  way  into  the  trunk,  and  the  heart  thereof  was  decayed  ; 
it  mouldered  away  and  fell  to  the  ground. 

3.  I  have  seen  the  insects  sporting  in  the  sunshine, ^nd  dart- 
ing along  the  streams  ;  their  winors  glittered  v/ith  gold  and  pur- 
ple; their  bodies  shone  like  the  green  emerald  ;  they  were  more 
numerous  than  I  could  count ;  their  motions  were  quicker  than 
my  eye  could  glance.  I  returned  :  they  were  brushed  into  the 
pool ;  they  were  perishing  with  the  evening  breeze  ;  the  swal- 
low had  devoured  them  ;  the  pike  had  seized  them  ;  there  were 
none  found  of  so  great  a  multitude. 

4.  I  have  seen  a  man  in  the  pride  of  his  strength  ;  his  cheeks 
glowed  with  beauty  ;  his  limbs  were  full  of  activity  ;  he  leaped  ; 
he  walked  ;  he  ran  ;  he  rejoiced  in  that  he  was  more  excellent 
than  those.  I  returned :  he  lay  stiff  and  cold  on  the  bare 
ground  ;  his  feet  could  no  longer  move,  nor  his  hands  stretch 
themselves  out ;  his  life  was  de]mrted  from  him  ;  and  tlie  breath 
out  of  his  nostrils.  TJierefore  do  I  M-eep  because  DEATH  is 
in  the  world  ;  the  spoiler  is  among  the  works  of  God  ;  all  that 
is  made  must  be  destroyed  ;  all  that  is  born  must  die. 


LESSON  XXV. 

Immortality. — Barbauld. 

1.  I  HAVE  seen  the  flower  withering  on  the  stalk,  and  its 
bright  leaves  spread  (in  the  ground. — I  looked  again  ;  it  sprung 
fortn  afresh ;  its  stem  was  crowned  with  new  buds,  and  its 
sweetness  filled  the  air. 

2.  I  have  seen  the  sun  set  in  the  west,  and  the  shades  of 
night  shut  in  the  wide  horizon  :  there  was  no  color,  nor  shape, 
nor  beauty,  nor  music  ;  gloom  and  darkness  brooded  around. — 
I  looked  :  the  sun  broke  forth  again  upon  the  east,  and  gilded 
the  mountain  tops  ;  the  lark  rose  to  meet  him  from  her  low  nest, 
and  the  shades  of  darkness  lied  away. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  53 

3.  I  have  seen  the  insect,  being  come  to  its  full  size,  languish, 
and  refuse  to  eat :  it  spun  itself  a  tomb,  and  was  shrouded  in 
the  silken  cone ;  it  lay  without  feet,  or  shape,  or  power  to 
move. — I  looked  again  :  it  had  burst  its  tomb ;  it  was  full  of 
life,  and  sailed  on  colored  wings  through  the  soft  air ;  it  rejoic- 
ed in  its  new  being. 

4.  Thus  shall  it  be  with  thee,  O  man  !  and  so  shall  thy  life 
be  renewed.  Beauty  shall  spring  up  out  of  ashes,  and  life  out 
of  the  dust.  A  little  while  shalt  thou  lie  in  the  ground,  as  the 
seed  lies  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth ;  but  thou  shalt  be  raised 
again  ;  and  thou  shalt  never  die  any  more. 

5.  Who  is  he  that  comes  to  burst  open  tlie  prison  doors  of 
the  tomb ;  to  bid  the  dead  awake ;  and  to  gather  his  redeemed 
from  the  four  winds  of  heaven  ?  He  descends  on  a  fiery  cloud  ; 
the  sound  of  a  trumpet  goes  before  him ;  thousands  of  angels 
are  on  his  right  hand. — It  is  Jesus,  the  Son  of  God ;  the  Saviour 
of  men  ;  the  friend  of  the  good.  He  comes  in  the  glory  of  his 
Father ;  he  has  received  power  from  on  high. 

6.  Mourn  not,  therefore,  child  of  immortality  !  for  the  spoi- 
ler, the  cruel  spoiler,  that  laid  waste  the  works  of  God,  is  subdu- 
ed. Jesus  has  conquered  death  :  child  of  immortality  !  mourn 
no  longer. 


LESSON  xxvi: 

The  End  of  Perfection. — Mrs.  Sigourney. 

1.  I  HAVE  seen  a  man  in  the  glory  of  his  days  and  the  pride 
of  his  strength.  He  was  built  like  the  tall  cedar  that  lifts  itv^ 
head  above  the  forest  trees  ;  like  the  strong  oak  that  strikes  its 
root  deeply  into  the  earth.  He  feared  no  danger — he  felt  no 
sickness — he  wondered  that  any  should  groan  or  sigh  at  pain. 

2.  His  mind  was  vigorous  like  his  body  ;  he  was  perplexed 
at  no  intricacy  ;  he  was  daunted  at  no  difficulty;  into  hidden 
things  he  searched,  and  what  was  crooked  he  made  plain. 

3.  He  went  forth  fearless  upon  tlie  mighty  deep  ;  he  survey- 
ed the  nations  of  the  earth  ;  he  measured  the  distances  of  the 
stars,  and  called  them  by  their  names  ;  he  gloried  in  the  extent 
of  his  knowledge,  in  the  vigor  of  his  understanding,  and  strove 
to  search  even  into  what  the  Almighty  had  concealed. 

4.  And  when  1  looked  on  him,  I  said,  "  What  a  piece  of  work 
la  man  !  how  noble  in  reason  !  how  infinite  in  faculties  !  in  form 
and  movinjr  how  express  and  admirable  !  in  action  how  like  an 
angel !  in  apprehension  how  like  a  God  !" 

5* 


54  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

5.  I  returned — his  look  was  no  more  lofty,  nor  his  steps 
proud  ;  his  broken  frame  was  like  some  ruined  tower  ;  his  hairs 
were  white  and  scattered ;  and  his  eye  gazed  vacantly  upon 
what  was  passing  around  him. 

6.  The  vigor  of  his  intellect  was  wasted,  and  of  all  that  he 
had  gained  by  study  nothing  remained.  He  feared  when  there 
was  no  danger,  and  when  there  was  no  sorrow  he  wept.  His 
memory  was  decayed  and  treacherous,  and  showed  him  only 
broken  images  of  the  glory  that  was  departed. 

7.  His  house  was  to  him  like  a  strange  land,  and  his  friends 
were  counted  his  enemies  ;  and  he  thought  himself  strong 
and  healthful  while  he  stood  trembling  on  the  verge  of  the 
grave. 

8.  He  said  of  his  son — he  is  my  brother  ;  of  his  daughter — 
I  know  her  not ;  and  he  inquired  what  was  his  own  name. — 
And  one  who  supported  his  last  steps,  and  ministered  to  liis 
many  wants,  said  to  me  as  I  looked  on  the  melancholy  scene 
— "  Let  thine  heart  receive  instruction,  for  thou  hast  seen  an 
end  of  all  earthly  perfection." 

9.  I  have  seen  a  beautiful  female  treading  the  first  stages  of 
youth,  and  entering  joyfully  into  the  pleasures  of  life.  The 
glance  of  her  eye  was  variable  and  sweet ;  and  on  her  cheek 
trembled  something  like  the  first  blush  of  the  morning  ;  her  lips 
moved,  and  there  was  harmony  ;  and  when  she  floated  in  the 
dance,  her  light  form,  like  the  aspen,  seemed  to  move  with  eve- 
ry breeze. 

10.  I  returned — but  slie  was  not  in  the  dance  ;  I  sought  her 
in  the  gay  circle  of  her  companions,  but  I  found  her  not.  Her 
eye  sparkled  not  there — the  music  of  her  voice  was  silent — she 
rejoiced  on  earth  no  more. 

n.  I  saw  a  train,  sable  and  slow  paced,  who  bore  sadly  to 
an  open  grave  what  was  once  animated  and  beautiful.  They 
paused  as  they  approached,  and  a  voice  broke  the  awfid  silence : 
"  Mingle  ashes  with  ashes,  and  dust  with  its  original  dust.  To 
the  earth,  whence  she  was  at  first  taken,  we  consign  the  body 
of  our  sister." 

12.  They  covered  her  with  the  damp  soil,  and  the  cold  clods 
of  the  valley  ;  and  the  worms  crowded  into  her  silent  abode. 
Yet  one  sad  mourner  lingered,  to  cast  himself  upon  the  grave, 
and  as  he  wept,  he  said, — "  there  is  no  beauty,  or  grace,  or 
loveliness  that  continueth  in  man ;  for  this  is  the  end  of  all  his 
glory  and  perfection." 

13.  I  have  seen  an  infant  with  a  fair  brow  and  a  frame  like 
p>olished  ivory.     Its  limbs  were  pliant  in  its  sports  ;  it  rejoiced 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  55 

and  again  it  wept ;  but  whether  its  glowing  cheek  dimpled  mth 
smiles,  or  its  blue  eye  was  brilliant  with  tears,  still  I  said  to 
my  heart,  it  is  beautiful. 

14.  It  was  like  the  first  pure  blossom  which  some  cherished 
plant  has  shot  forth,  whose  cup  is  filled  with  a  dew  drop,  and 
whose  head  reclines  upon  its  parent  stem. 

15.  I  again  saw  this  child  when  the  lamp  of  reason  first 
dawned  in  its  mind.  Its  soul  was  gentle  and  peaceful ;  its  eye 
sparkled  with  joy,  as  it  looked  rovmd  on  this  good  and  plea- 
sant world.  It  ran  swiftly  in  the  ways  of  knowledge — it  bowed 
its  ear  to  instruction — it  stood  like  a  lamb  before  its  teachers. 

16.  It  was  not  proud,  or  envious,  or  stubborn,  and  it  had 
never  heard  of  the  vanities  and  vices  of  the  world.  And  when 
I  looked  upon  it,  I  remembered  that  our  Saviour  had  said, 
*'  Except  ye  become  as  little  children,  ye  cannot  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven." 

17.  But  the  scene  was  changed,  and  I  saw  a  man  whom  the 
world  called  honorable,  and  many  waited  for  his  smile.  They 
pointed  out  the  fields  that  were  his,  and  talked  of  the  silver  and 
gold  that  he  had  gathered  ;  they  admired  the  stateliness  of  his 
domes,  and  extolled  the  honor  of  his  family. 

18.  And  his  heart  answered  secretly,  "  By  my  wisdom  have 
I  gotten  all  this  :" — So  he  returned  no  thanks  to  God,  neither 
did  he  fear  or  serve  him.  And  as  I  passed  along,  I  heard  the 
complaints  of  the  laborers  who  had  reaped  down  his  fields,  and 
the  cries  of  the  poor,  whose  covering  he  had  taken  away ;  but 
the  sound  of  feasting  and  revelry  was  in  his  apartments,  and 
the  unfed  beggar  came  tottering  from  his  door. 

19.  But  he  considered  not  that  the  cries  of  the  oppressed 
were  continually  entering  into  the  ears  of  the  Most  High.  And 
when  I  knew  that  this  man  was  once  the  teachable  child  that 
I  had  loved — the  beautiful  infant  that  I  had  gazed  upon  with 
delight,  I  said  in  my  bitterness,  /  have  seen  an  end  of  all 
perfection. 


LESSON  XXVII. 

The  Two  Bees. — Dodsley. 

1.  On  a  fine  morning  in  summer,  two  bees  set  forward  in 
quest  of  honey, — the  one  wise  and  temperate,  the  other  careless 
and  extravagant.  They  soon  arrived  at  a  garden  enriched 
>vith  aromatic  herbs, — the  most  fragrant  flowers, — and  the  most 
delicious  fruits. 


56  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

2.  They  regaled  themselves  with  the  various  dainties  that 
were  spread  before  them  ;  the  one  loaded  himself  at  inter- 
vals, with  provisions  for  the  hive  against  the  distant  winter  ; 
the  other  revelled  in  sweets,  without  regard  to  any  thing  but  his 
present  gratiiication. 

3.  At  length  they  found  a  wide-mouthed  phial,  that  hung 
beneath  the  bough  of  a  peach  tree,  filled  with  honey  ready  tem- 
pered, and  exposed  to  their  taste  in  the  most  alluring  manner. 
The  thoughtless  epicure,  in  spite  of  his  friend's  remonstrances, 
plunged  headlong  into  the  vessel,  resolving  to  indulge  himself 
in  all  the  pleasures  of  sensuality. 

4.  His  philosophic  companion,  on  the  other  hand,  sipped  a 
little,  with  caution  ;  but  being  suspicious  of  danger,  flew  oif  to 
fruits  and  flowers  ;  where,  by  the  moderation  of  his  meals,  he 
improved  his  relish  for  the  true  enjoyment  of  them. 

5.  In  the  evening,  however,  he  called  upon  his  friend,  to 
inquire  whether  he  would  return  to  the  hive  :  but  he  found  him 
surfeited  in  sweets,  which  he  was  as  unable  to  leave,  as  to 
enjoy. 

6.  Clogged  in  his  wings, — enfeebled  in  his  feet, — and  his 
whole  frame  totally  enervated, — he  A\as  but  just  able  to  bid  his 
friend  adieu  ;  and  to  lament,  with  his  latest  breath — tlial  though 
a  taste  of  pleasure  may  i[uicken  the  relish  of  life,  an  unrestrain- 
ed indulgence  leads  to  inevitable  destruction. 


LESSON  XXVIII. 

Heroism  of  a  Peasant. 

1.  A  GREAT  inundation  having  taken  place  in  the  north  of 
Italy,  owing  to  an  excessive  fall  of  snow  in  the  Alps,  followed 
by  a  speedy  thaw,  the  bri<lge  near  Verona*  was  carried  oflf  by 
the  flood,  except  the  mid(ile  part,  on  which  was  the  house  of 
the  toll-gatherer,  who,  with  his  wliole  family,  thus  remained  im- 
prisoned by  the  waves,  and  in  momenlarv  danger  of  destruction. 

2.  They  were  discovered  fr<3m  the  banks,  stretching  forth 
their  hands,  screaming,  and  imploring  succor,  while  frajmients 
of  this  remaining  arch  were  continually  dropping  into  the  wa- 
ter. In  this  extreme  danger,  a  nobleman  who  was  present, 
held  out  a  })inse  of  one  hundred  sequins,t  as  a  reward  to  any  ad- 
venturer who  would  take  a  boat  and  deliver  the  unhappy  family. 

*  Veroiia.  a  city  in  the  north,  rn  j)art  of  Italy,  now  etubratcd  in  the  Au»- 
trian  empire,  is  situ:ilcd  on  the  river  AcUfje. 

t  Sequin,  a  no'd  coin  of  Venice  and  Turkey,  valued  at  two  dollars  and 
tv»enty-oijo  and  a  half  cents. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  ?V 

3.  But  the  risk  was  so  great  of  being  borne  dovm  by  the 
rapidity  of  the  stream,  of  being  dashed  against  the  fragments 
of  the  bridge,  or  of  being  crushed  by  the  falling  stones,  that  not 
one  among  the  vast  number  of  spectators  had  courage  enough 
to  attempt  such  an  exploit.  A  peasant  passing  along,  was  in- 
formed of  the  proffered  reward.  Immediately  jumping  into  a 
boat,  he,  by  strength  of  oars,  gained  the  middle  of  the  river, 
brought  his  boat  under  the  pile,  and  the  whole  family  safely 
descended  by  means  of  a  rope. 

4.  "  Courage  !"  cried  he,  "  now  you  are  safe."  By  a  still 
more  strenuous  effort,  and  great  strength  of  arm,  he  brought 
the  boat  and  family  to  the  shore.  "  Brave  fellow  !"  exclaim- 
ed the  nobleman,  handing  him  the  purse  ;  "  here  is  the  promis- 
ed recompense." 

5.  "  I  shall  never  expose  my  life  for  money,"  answered  the 
peasant ;  "  my  labor  is  a  sufficient  livelihood  for  myself,  my 
wife  and  children.  Give  the  purse  to  this  poor  family  who 
have  lost  all." 


LESSON  XXIX. 

Biographical  Sketch  of  Major  Andre, 

1.  John  Andre,  Aid-de-canip  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  and 
Adjutant-General  of  the  British  army  in  America,  during  the 
revolution,  was  born  in  England  in  1741.  He  was,  in  early 
life,  a  merchant's  clerk,  but  obtained  a  commission  in  the  army 
at  the  age  of  seventeen.  Possessing  an  active  and  enterpris- 
ing disposition,  and  the  most  amiable  and  accomplished  man- 
iw.rs,  he  soon  conciliated  the  esteem  and  friendship  of  his  su- 

.perior  officers,  and  rose  to  the  rank  of  Major. 

2.  After  Arnold*  had  intimated  to  the  British,  in  17S0,  his 
intention  of  delivering  up  West  Pointf  to  them,  Major  Andre 

♦  Beneclift  AraolJ,  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  Revolutionary  war,  was  a 
resident  of  New-Haven,  Connecticut.  He  embraced  with  enthusiasm  the 
cause  of  the  colonies,  and,  on  account  of  his  dining  courage,  was  })ronioted  to 
the  rank  of  Major-Geueral ;  but  he  was  vicious,  extravagant,  cruel,  vain, 
luxurious,  and  niean.  Becoming  displeased  with  the  government,  he  basely 
resolved  to  deliver  up  West  loint  to  the  British,  and  turn  traitor  to  his 
country.  When  Andre  was  taken,  he  esc.ped  with  difficulty,  on  board  a 
Briti.sh  sbip  of  war.  He  was  made  a  Brigadier-General  in  the  British  army, 
and  at  the  close  of  the  war  he  went  to  Engrland,  and  received  10,000/.  ster- 
ling, as  a  reward  of  his  villany.  He  died  in  London,  1801,  detested  by  all 
vviio  knew  him. 

t  West  Poir.t,  a  military  post  on  the  Hudson  river,  58  miles  north  of  the 
city  of  New-York. 


58  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

was  selected  as  the  person  to  whom  the  maturing  of  Arnold's 
treason,  and  the  arrangement  for  its  execution,  should  be  com- 
mitted. A  correspondence  was  for  some  time  carried  on  be- 
tween them,  under  a  mercantile  disguise,  and  the  feigned  names 
of  Gustavus  and  Anderson ;  and  at  length,  to  facihtate  their 
communications,  the  Vulture  sloop  of  war  moved  up  the  North 
River,  and  took  a  station  convenient  for  the  purpose,  but  not 
so  near  as  to  excite  suspicion. 

3.  An  interview  was  agreed  on,  and  in  the  night  of  Septem- 
ber 21, 1780,  he  was  taken  in  a  boat,  which  was  despatched  for 
the  purpose,  and  carried  to  the  beach  without  the  posts  of  both 
armies,  under  a  pass*  for  John  Anderson.  He  met  General 
Arnold  at  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Smith.  AVhile  the  conference 
was  yet  .unfinished,  day-light  approached ;  and  to  avoid  the 
danger  of  discovery,  it  was  proposed  that  he  should  remain 
concealed  till  the  succeeding  night. 

4.  He  desired  that  he  might  not  be  carried  within  the  Amer- 
ican posts ;  but  the  promise,  made  to  him  by  Arnold,  to  re- 
spect this  objection,  was  not  observed.  He  was  carried  within 
them  contrary  to  his  wishes  and  against  his  knowledge.  He 
continued  with  Arnold  the  succeeding  day,  and  when  on  the 
following  night  he  proposed  to  return  to  the  Vulture,  the  boat- 
men refused  to  carry  him  because  she  had  during  the  day  shift- 
ed her  station,  in  consequence  of  a  ^un  having  been  moved  to 
the  shore  and  brought  to  bear  upon  ner. 

5.  This  embarrassing  circumstance  reduced  him  to  the  neces- 
sity of  endeavoring  to  reach  New-York  by  land.  Yielding  with 
reluctance  to  the  urgent  representations  of  Arnold,  he  laid  aside 
his  regimentals,  which  he  had  hitherto  worn  under  his  surtout, 
and  put  on  a  plain  suit  of  cloaths,  and  receiving  a  pass  from 
the  American  General,  authorizing  him,  under  the  feigned 
name  of  John  Anderson,  to  proceed  on  the  public  service  to 
the  White  Plains,  or  lower,  if  he  thought  proper,  he  set  out 
on  his  return. 

6.  He  had  passed  all  the  guards  and  posts  on  the  road  with- 
out suspicion,  and  was  proceeding  to  New- York  in  perfect  se- 
curity, when,  on  the  twenty-third  of  September,  one  of  the 
three  militia  men,  who  were  employed  with  others  in  scouting 
parties  between  the  lines  of  the  two  armies,  springing  suddenly 
from  his  covert  in  the  road,  seized  the  reins  of  his  bridle  and 
stopped  his  horse. 

*  Pass,  a  written  licence  from  one  in  authorit)-,  granting  permission  to  a 
person  to  go  from  one  place  to  another,  without  hindrance  or  molestation. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  59 

7.  Instead  of  producing  his  pass,  Andre,  with  a  want  of  self- 
possession,  which  can  be  attributed  only  to  a  kind  of  providence, 
asked  the  man  hastily  where  he  belonged,  and  being  answered, 
"  to  below,"  replied  immediately,  "  and  so  do  I."  He  then 
declared  himself  to  be  a  British  officer,  on  urgent  business,  and 
begged  that  he  might  not  be  detained.  The  other  two  militia 
men  coming  up  at  this  moment,  he  discovered  his  mistake ; 
but  it  was  too  late  to  repair  it. 

8.  He  offered  a  purse  of  gold,  and  a  valuable  watch,  to  which 
he  added  the  most  tempting  promises  of  ample  reward  and 
permanent  provision  from  the  government,  if  they  would  permit 
him  to  escape;  but  his  offers  were  rejected  without  hesitation. 
The  names  of  the  militia  men  who  apprehended  Andre,  were 
John  Paulding,  David  Williams,  and  Isaac  Vanwert,  who,  im- 
mediately after  searching,  carried  him  before  their  commander, 
Col.  Jamieson. 

9.  On  the  29th  of  September,.  1780,  General  Washington 
appointed  a  board  of  fourteen  general  officers,  part  of  whom 
were  General  Green,*  the  Marquis  de  la  Fayette,!  and  Baron 
de  Steuben,|  with  the  assistance  of  the  Judge  Advocate,  John 
Lawrence.  After  the  most  mature  deliberation  they  pronounc- 
ed Major  Andre  a  spy  from  the  enemy,  and  that  agreeably  to 
the  laws  of  nations  he  ought  to  suffer  death. 

10.  When  his  sentence  was  announced  to  him,  he  remarked, 
that  since  it  was  his  lot  to  die,  as  there  was  a  choice  in  the  mode, 
which  would  make  a  material  difference  in  his  feelings,  he  would 
be  happy,  if  it  were  possible,  to  be  indulged  with  a  professional 
death  ;  but  the  indulgence  of  being  shot  rather  than  hanged  was 

-  *  Nathaniel  Green,  a  Major-General  in  the  army  of  the  United  States, 
during  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  was  born  in  Warwick,  Rhode-Island, 
1741.  His  bravery,  skill,  and  services,  were  such  as  to  merit  the  highest  ap- 
probation of  his  country.     He  died  in  Georgia,  1786. 

t  Gilbert  Mottier,  Marquis  de  la  Fayette,  was  born  in  France  in  1757. 
He  descended  from  distinguished  ancestors,  and  inherited  a  princely  fortune. 
Such  was  his  ardor  in  the  cause  of  liberty,  that,  at  the  age  of  19,  he  came  to 
America,  and  joined  the  army  under  Washington.  He  was  appointed  a 
Major-General,  and  by  his  active  and  faithful  services,  he  gained  the  esteem 
and  affection  of  the  whole  American  people.  In  1824,  he  visited  the  United 
States,  when  he  made  a  tour  through  the  country,  and  was  every  where  re- 
ceived with  the  highest  marks  of  gratitude  and  respect.  He  returned  to 
France  in  1825. 

t  Frederick  William,  Baron  de  Steuben,  was  a  native  of  Prussia.  He 
came  to  America  in  1777,  and  volunteered  his  services  in  the  cause  of  lib- 
erty. He  was  appointed  a  Major-General  in  the  American  army,  and  by 
his  knowledge  of  the  military  tactics  of  Europe,  he  rendered  the  most  essen- 
tial service  to  the  revolutionary  army.^  He  died  at  Steubenville,  in  the  state 
of  New- York,  in  1794. 


60  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

not  granted,  because  it  was  considered  contrary  to  the  custom 
of  war. 

11.  When  he  was  led  out  to  the  place  of  execution,  he  bowed 
familiarly  to  all  those  with  whom  he  had  been  acquainted  during 
his  confinement ;  a  smile  of  complacency  expressed  the  serene 
fortitude  of  his  mind. — Upon  seeing  tiie  preparations  at  the  spot, 
he  asked  with  some  emotion,  "  must  I  die  in  this  manner  ?" — 
He  was  told  it  was  unavoidable.  "  I  am  reconciled  to  my  fate," 
said  he,  "  but  not  to  the  mode."  Soon  after,  liowever,  recol- 
lecting himself,  he  added,  "  It  will  be  but  a  momentary  pang ;" 
and  springing  upon  the  cart,  performed  the  last  office  to  himself, 
with  a  composure  that  excited  the  admiration  and  melted  the 
hearts  of  all  the  spectators. 

12.  Being  told  that  the  fatal  moment  was  at  hand,  and  asked 
if  he  had  any  thing  to  say,  he  answered,  "  Nothing,  but  to  re- 
quest that  you  will  witness  to  the  world  that  I  die  like  a  brave 
man."  Thus  died  Major  Andre,  universally  esteemed  and 
regretted. 


LESSON  XXX. 

The  Miracle. — A  German  Parable. 

1.  One  day  in  spring,  Solomon,  then  a  youth,  sat  under  the 
palm-trees,  in  the  garden  of  the  King,  his  father,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ground,  and  absorbed  in  thought.  Nathan,  his 
preceptor,  went  up  to  him  and  said,  "  Why  sittest  thou  thus, 
musing  under  the  palm-trees  ?"  The  youth  raised  his  head,  and 
answered,  "  Nathan,  I  am  exceedingly  desirous  to  behold  a 
miracle." 

2.  "  A  wish,"  said  the  prophet,  with  a  smile,  "  which  I  en- 
tertained myself  in  my  juvenile  years,"  "And  was  it  granted  ?" 
hastily  asked  the  Prince.  "  A  man  of  God,"  answered  Nathan, 
"came  to  me,  brinnring  in  his  hand  a  pomegranate  seed.  Ob- 
serve, said  he,  what  this  seed  will  turn  to  !  He  thereupon  made 
with  his  fingers  a  hole  in  the  earth,  and  put  the  seed  into  the 
hole,  and  covered  it." 

3.  "  Scarcely  had  he  drawn  back  his  hand,  when  the  earth 
parted,  and  I  saw  two  sm.all  leaves  shoot  forth — but  no  sooner 
did  I  perceive  them  than  the  leaves  separated,  and  from  between 
them  arose  a  round  stem,  covered  with  bark,  and  the  stem  be- 
came every  moment  higher  and  thicker." 

4.  "  The  man  of  God  thereupon  said  to  me,  *  take  notice  !' 
And  while  I  v^bserved,  seven  s-hoots  issued  from  the  stem,  like 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  61 

the  seven  branches  on  the  candlestick  of  the  aUar."  "  I  was 
astonished,  but  the  man  of  God  motioned  to  me,  and  command- 
ed me  to  be  silent,  and  to  attend.  Behold,  said  he,  new  crea- 
tions will  soon  make  their  appearance." 

5.  "  He  thereupon  brought  water  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand 
from  the  stream  which  flowed  past ;  and  lo  !  all  the  branches 
were  covered  with  green  leaves,  so  that  a  cooling  shade  was 
thrown  around  us,  together  with  a  delicious  odor. — "Whence," 
exclaimed  I,  "  is  this  })erfame  amid  the  refreshing  shade  ?" — 
"  Seest  thou  not,  "  said  the  man  of  God,  "  the  scarlet  blossom, 
as,  shooting  forth  from  among  the  green  leaves,  it  hangs  down 
in  clusters  f" 

6.  "  I  was  about  to  answer,  when  a  gentle  breeze  agitated 
the  leaves,  and  strewed  the  blossoms  around  us,  as  the  autumnal 
blast  scatters  the  withered  foliage.  No  sooner  had  the  blossoms 
fallen,  than  the  red  pomegranates  appeared  suspended  among 
the  leaves,  like  the  almonds  on  the  staves  of  Aaron.  The  man 
of  God  then  left  me  in  profound  amazement." 

7.  Nathan  ceased  speaking.  "  What  is  the  name  of  the 
god-like  man  ?"  asked  Solomon,  hastily.  "  Doth  he  yet  live  ? 
Where  doth  he  dwell  ?"  "  Son  of  David,"  replied  Nathan, 
*'  I  have  related  to  thee  a  vision."  When  Solomon  heard  these 
words,  he  was  troubled  in  his  heart,  and  said,  "  How  canst  thou 
deceive  me  thus  ?"  "  I  have  not  deceived  thee,  son  of  David," 
rejoined  Nathan.  "  Behold,  in  thy  father's  garden  thou  mayest 
see  all  that  I  have  related  to  thee.  Doth  not  the  same  thing 
take  place  with  every  pomegranate,  and  with  the  other  trees  ?" 

8.  "  Yes,"  said  Solomon,  "  but  imperceptibly,  and  in  a  long 
time."  Then  Nathan  answered — "  Is  it  therefore  the  less  a 
divine  work,  because  it  takes  place  silently  and  insensibly  ? 
Study  nature  and  her  operations  ;  then  wilt  thou  easily  believe 
those  of  a  higher  power,  and  not  long  for  miracles  wrought  by 
a  human  hand." 


LESSON  XXXI. 

The  Compassionate  Judge. 

1.  The  celebrated  Charles  Anthony  Domat  was  promoted 
to  the  office  of  a  Judge  of  a  provincial  court,  in  the  south  of 
France,  in  which  he  presided,  with  public  applause,  for  twenty- 
four  years.  One  day  a  poor  widow  brought  a  complaint  before 
him,  against  the  Baron  de  Nairac,*  her  landlord,  for  turning  her 
out  of  possession  of  a  farm  which  was  her  whole  dependence. 

*  Pronounced  Bar'-on  de  Na-rak. 
6 


63  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

2.  Domat  heard  the  cause ;  and  finding  by  the  clearest  evi- 
dence, that  the  woman  had  ignorantly  broken  a  covenant  in  the 
lease,  which  empowered  the  landlord  to  take  possession  of  her 
farm,  he  recommended  mercy  to  the  baron  towards  a  poor  hon- 
est tenant,  who  had  not  willingly  transgressed,  nor  done  him  any 
material  injury.  But  Nairac  being  inexorable,*  the  judge  was 
obliged  to  pronounce  a  sentence  of  expulsion  from  the  farm,  and 
to  order  payment  of  the  damages  mentioned  in  the  lease,  toge- 
ther with  the  costs  of  the  suit. 

3.  In  delivering  this  sentence,  Domat  wiped  his  eyes,  from 
which  tears  of  compassion  flowed  plentifully.  When  the  order 
of  seizure,  both  of  her  person  and  effects,  was  decreed,  the  poor 
woman  exclaimed  :  "  O  just  and  righteous  God  !  be  thou  a 
father  to  the  widow  and  her  helpless  orphans!"  and  immedi- 
ately she  fainted  away. 

4.  The  compassionate  judge  assisted  in  raising  the  distressed 
woman  ;  and  after  enquiring  into  her  character,  the  number  of 
her  children,  and  other  circumstances,  generously  presented  her 
with  a  hundred  louis  d'ors,t  the  amount  of  her  damages  and 
costs,  which  he  prevailed  with  the  baron  to  accept  as  a  full 
recompense  ;  and  the  widow  was  restored  to  her  farm. 

5.  Deeply  affected  with  the  generosity  of  her  benefactor,  she 
said  to  him  :  "  O,  my  lord  !  when  will  you  demand  payment, 
that  I  may  lay  up  for  that  purpose  ?"  "  I  will  ask  it,"  replied 
Domat,  "  when  my  conscience  shall  tell  me  I  have  done  an  im- 
proper act." 


LESSON  XXXIL 

The  Prudent  Judge — an  Eastern  Tale. — Mass.  Magazine. 

1.  A  MERCHANT,  who,  ou  accouut  of  business,  was  obliged 
to  visit  foreign  countries,  intrusted  to  a  dervis,  whom  he  consid- 
ered as  his  friend,  a  purse,  containing  a  thousand  sequins,  and 
begged  him  to  keep  it  until  he  should  return.  At  the  end  of 
one  year,  the  merchant  returned,  and  asked  for  his  money  ;  but 
the  deceitful  dervis  affirmed,  that  he  had  never  received  any. 

3.  The  merchant,  fired  with  indignation  at  this  perfidious 
behaviour,  applied  to  the  cadi.J  "  You  have  had  more  honesty 
than  prudence,"  said  the  judge  :  "  you  ought  not  to  have  placed 

*  Pronounced  In-cx'-o-ra-ble. 

t  Pronounced  lu'-e-dores,  a  gold  coin  of  France,  valued  at  S4  44  cents,  or 
li.  sterling. 
t  Cadi<  a  Turkisli  magistrate. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  63 

so  much  confidence  in  a  man,  of  whose  fidelity  you  were  not 
sufficiently  assured.  It  ^\'ill  be  difficult  to  compel  this  cheat 
to  restore  a  deposit  which  he  received  when  no  witnesses  were 
present.  Go  to  him  again,"  added  he,  "  address  him  in  a 
friendly  manner,  Avithout  informing  him  that  I  am  acquainted 
with  the  affair,  and  return  to  me  to-morrow  at  this  hour." 

3.  The  merchant  obeyed  ;  but,  instead  of  getting  his  money, 
he  received  only  abuse.  While  the  debtor  and  creditor  were 
disputing,  a  slave  arrived  from  the  cadi,  who  invited  the  dervis 
to  pay  a  visit  to  his  master.  The  dervis  accepted  the  invitation. 

4.  He  was  introduced  into  a  grand  apartment,  received  with 
friendship,  and  treated  with  the  same  respect  as  if  he  had  been 
a  man  of  the  most  distinguished  rank.  The  cadi  discoursed 
with  him  upon  diflerent  subjects,  among  which  he  occasionally 
introduced,  as  an  opportunity  presented,  the  highest  encomiums 
on  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  the  dervis. 

5.  When  he  thought  he  had  gained  his  confidence  by  praises 
and  flattery,  he  informed  him  that  he  had  sent  for  him  in  order 
to  give  him  the  most  convincing  proof  of  his  respect  and  esteem. 
"  An  affair  of  the  greatest  importance,"  says  he,  "  obliges  me 
to  be  absent  for  a  few  months.  I  cannot  trust  my  slaves,  and 
I  am  desirous  of  putting  my  treasures  into  the  hands  of  a  man, 
who,  like  you,  enjoys  the  most  unspotted  reputation. 

6.  "If  you  can  take  the  charge  of  them,  without  impeding  your 
own  occupations,  I  shall  send  you,  to-morrow  night,  my  most 
valuable  efliects ;  but,  as  this  affair  requires  great  secrecy,  I  shall 
order  the  faithful  est  of  my  slaves  to  deliver  them  to  you  as  a 
present  which  I  make  you." 

-  7.  At  these  Avords,  an  agreeable  smile  was  diffused  over  the 
countenance  of  the  treacherous  dervis.  He  made  a  thousand 
rev^erences  to  the  cadi ;  thanked  him  for  the  confidence  which 
he  reposed  in  him ;  swore,  in  the  strongest  terms,  that  he  would 
preserve  his  treasure  as  the  apple  of  his  eye  ;  and  retired,  hug- 
ging himself  with  joy  at  the  thoughts  of  being  able  to  overreach 
the  judge. 

8.  Next  morning,  the  merchant  returned  to  the  cadi,  and 
informed  him  of  the  obstinacy  of  the  dervis.  "  Go  bark,"  said 
the  judge,  "  and  if  he  persist  in  his  refusal,  threaten  that  you 
will  complain  to  me.  I  think  you  will  not  Jiave  occasion  to 
repeat  your  menace." 

9.  The  merchant  immediately  hastened  to  the  house  of  his 
debtor,  and  no  sooner  had  he  mentioned  the  name  of  the  cadi, 
than  the  dervis,  who  was  afraid  of  losing  the  treasure  that  was 
about  to  be  entrusted  to  his  care,  restored  the  purse,  and  said, 


64  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

smiling,  "  My  dear  friend,  why  should  you  trouble  the  cadi  ? 
Your  money  was  perfectly  secure  in  my  hands ;  my  refusal 
was  only  a  piece  of  pleasantry.  I  was  desirous  of  seeing  how 
you  would  bear  disappointment." 

10.  The  merchant,  however,  was  prudent  enough  not  to  be- 
lieve what  he  had  heard,  and  returned  to  the  cadi,  to  thank 
him  for  the  generous  assistance  which  he  had  given  him. 

11.  Night  approached,  and  the  dervis  prepared  to  receive 
the  expected  treasure  ;  but  the  night  passed,  and  no  slaves  ap- 
peared. As  soon  as  it  was  morning,  the  dervis  repaired  to 
the  judge's  house.  "  I  am  come  to  know,  Mr.  Cadi,"  said  he, 
"  why  you  have  not  sent  your  slaves,  according  to  promise." 

12.  "  Because  I  have  learned  from  a  merchant,"  said  the 
judge,  "  that  thou  art  a  perfidious  wretch,  whom  justice  will 
punish  as  thou  deservest,  if  a  second  complaint  of  the  same 
nature  is  brought  against  thee."  The  dervis,  struck  with  this 
reproof,  made  a  profound  reverence,  and  retired  with  precipi- 
tation, without  offering  a  single  word  in  his  own  vindication. 


LESSON  XXXIII. 

The  Fox  and  the  Cat. 

1.  The  Fox  and  the  Cat,  as  they  travelled  one  day, 
With  moral  discourses  cut  shorter  the  way. 

*"Tis  great  (says  the  Fox)  to  make  justice  our  guide !" 
"  How  godlike  is  mercy !" — Grimalkin*  replied. 

2.  Whilst  thus  they  proceeded,  a  Wolf  from  the  wood, 
Impatient  of  hunger,  and  thirsting  for  blood, 
Rush'd  forth,  as  he  saw  the  dull  shepherd  asleep. 
And  seized  for  his  supper  an  innocent  Sheep. 

"  In  vain,  wretched  victim,  for  mercy  you  bleat. 
When  mutton's  at  hand,  (says  the  Wolf,)  I  must  eat." 

3.  Grimalkin's  astonished — The  Fox  stood  aghast, 
To  see  the  fell  beast  at  his  bloody  repast ; 

"What  a  wretch  (sings  the  Cat) — 'tis  the  vilest  of  brutes; 
Does  he  feed  upon  flesh,  when  there's  herbage  and  roots  ?" 
Cries  the  Fox,  "while  our  oaks  give  us  acorns  so  good. 
What  a  tyrant  is  this  to  spill  innocent  blood  !" 

4.  Well,  onward  they  march'd,  and  they  moralized  still. 

Till  they  came  where  some  poultry  pick'd  chaff  by  a  mill ; 

*  Grimalkin,  an  old  cat. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  65 

Sly  Renard  surveyed  them  with  gluttonous  eyes, 
And  made  (spite  of  morals)  a  Chicken  his  prize. 
A  Mouse  too,  that  chanc'd  from  her  cover  to  stray. 
The  greedy  Grimalkin  secured  as  her  prey. 

5.  A  Spider  that  sat  in  her  web  on  the  wall, 

Perceiv'd  the  poor  victims,  and  pitied  their  fall ; 
She  cried — "  of  such  murders  how  guiltless  am  I !" 
So  ran  to  regale  on  a  new  taken  Fly. 

MORAL. 

The  faults  of  our  neighbors  with  freedom  we  blame, 
But  tax  not  ourselves,  though  we  practise  the  same. 


LESSON  XXXIV. 

Might  makes  Right, 

1.  A  Sparrow  perched  upon  a  bough, 
Spied  a  poor  beetle  creep  below. 

And  picked  it  up.     "  Ah,  spare  me,  spare ! — " 
The  insect  prayed  :  but  vain  its  prayer. 
"  Wretch  !"  cries  the  murderer,  "  hold  thy  tongue, 
For  thou  art  weak,  and  I  am  strong." 

2.  A  hawk  beheld  him,  and  in  haste, 
Sharpens  his  beak  for  a  repast. 

And  pounces  plump  upon  him.     "  O,** 
Exclaims  the  sparrow,  "  let  me  go." 
"Wretch  !"  cries  the  murderer,  "hold  thy  tongue, 
For  thou  art  weak,  and  I  am  strong." 

3.  The  hawk  was  munching  up  his  prey, 
When  a  stout  eagle  steer'd  that  way. 
And  seized  upon  him.     "  Sure,  comrade. 
You'll  spare  my  life — we're  both  a  trade  /" 

"  Wretch  !"  cried  the  murderer,  "hold  thy  tongue. 
For  thou  art  weak,  and  I  am  strong." 

4.  A  sportsman  saw  the  eagle  fly. 

He  shot,  and  brought  him  from  the  sky : 
The  dying  bird  could  only  groan, 
"  Tyrant !  what  evil  have  I  done  ?" 
"  Wretch  !"  cries  the  murderer,  "hold  thy  tongue, 
For  thou  art  weak,  and  I  am  strong." 
6* 


66  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

5.  'Tis  thus  that  man  to  man  behaves ; 
Witness  the  planter  and  his  slaves. 
'Tis  thus  that  state  oppresses  state, 
And  infant  freedom  meets  its  fate. 
"  Wretch  !"  cries  the  stronger,  "  hold  thy  tongue, 
For  thou  art  weak,  and  I  am  strong." 


LESSON  XXXV. 

Tlie  Lion  and  Dog. 

\.  It  was  customary  for  those  who  were  unable  to  pay  six- 
pence for  the  sight  of  the  wild  beasts  in  the  Tower,  to  bring  a 
dog  or  a  cat,  as  a  gift  to  the  beasts,  in  lieu  of  money  to  the 
keeper.  Among  others,  a  man  had  brought  a  pretty  black 
spaniel,  which  was  thrown  into  the  cage  of  the  great  lion. — 
Immediately  the  little  animal  trembled  and  shivered,  crouched, 
and  threw  itself  on  its  back,  put  forth  its  tongue,  and  held  up  its 
paws,  as  if  praying  for  merry. 

2.  In  the  mean  time,  the  lion,  instead  of  devouring  it,  turned 
it  over  with  one  paw,  and  then  turned  it  with  the  other.  He 
smelled  of  it,  and  seemed  desirous  of  courting  a  further  acquain- 
tance. The  keeper,  on  seeing  this,  brought  a  large  mess  of  his 
own  family  dinner.  But  the  lion  kept  aloof,  and  refused  to  eat, 
keeping  his  eye  on  the  dog,  and  inviting  him,  as  it  were,  to  be 
his  taster. 

3.  At  length,  the  little  animal's  fears  being  somewhat  abated, 
and  his  appetite  quickened  by  the  smell  of  the  victuals,  he  ap- 
proached slowly,  and,  with  trembling,  ventured  to  eat.  The 
lion  then  advanced  gently,  and  began  to  partake,  and  they  fin- 
ished their  meal  very  quietly  together. 

4.  From  tliis  day,  a  strict  friendship  commenced  between 
them,  consisting  of  great  aflection  and  tenderness  on  the  part  of 
the  lion,  and  of  the  utmost  confidence  and  boldness  on  the  part 
of  the  dog  ;  insomuch  that  he  would  lay  himself  down  to  sleep 
within  the  fangs  and  under  the  jaws  of  his  terrible  patron. 

5.  In  about  twelve  months,  the  little  spaniel  sickened  and 
died.  For  a  time,  the  lion  did  not  appear  to  conceive  other- 
wise than  that  his  favorite  was  asleep.  He  would  continue  to 
smell  of  him,  and  then  would  stir  him  with  his  nose,  and  turn 
him  oxev  with  liis  paws. 

6.  But,  finding  that  all  his  efforts  to  wake  him  were  vain,  he 
would  traverse  his  cage  from  end  to  end  at  a  swift  and  uneasy 
pace.     He  would  then  stop,  and  look  down  upon  hijn  with  a 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  67 

fixed  and  drooping  regard  ;  and  again  lift  up  his  head,  and  roar 
for  several  minutes,  as  the  sound  of  distant  thunder. 

7.  They  attempted,  but  in  vain,  to  convey  the  carcase  from 
him.  He  watched  it  continually,  and  would  suffer  nothing  to 
touch  it.  The  keeper  then  endeavored  to  tempt  him  with  a 
variety  of  food,  but  he  turned  from  ail  that  was  offered,  with 
loathino-. 

8.  They  then  put  several  living  dogs  in  his  cage,  which  he 
tore  in  pieces,  but  left  their  members  on  the  floor.  His  pas- 
sions being  thus  inflamed,  he  would  grapple  at  the  bars  of  his 
cage,  as  if  enraged  at  his  restraint  from  tearing  those  around 
him  to  pieces. 

9.  Again,  as  if  quite  spent,  he  would  stretch  himself  by  the 
remains  of  his  beloved  associate,  lay  his  paws  upon  him,  and 
take  him  to  his  bosom ;  and  then  utter  his  grief  in  deep  and 
melancholy  roaring,  for  the  loss  of  his  little  play-fellow,  his 
late  friend,  the  only  companion  of  his  den. 

10.  For  five  days,  he  thus  languished,  and  graduallj'^  declined, 
without  taking  any  sustenance  or  admitting  any  comfort,  till, 
one  morning,  he  was  found  dead,  with  his  head  reclined  on  the 
carcase  of  his  little  friend.     They  were  both  interred  together. 


LESSON  XXXVL 

Scene  from.  "  the  Poor  Gentleman.'''' 

SIR    ROBERT,    FREDERICK,    AND    HUMPHREY. 

Enter  Frederick,  hastily. 

Fred.  O  my  dear  uncle,  good  morning  !  your  park*  is  no- 
thing but  beauty. 

Sir  Rob.  Who  bid  you  caper  over  my  beauty?  I  told  you 
to  stay  in  doors  till  I  got  up. 

Fred.  So  you  did,  but  I  entirely  forgot  it. 

Sir  Rob.   And  pray  what  made  you  forget  it  ? 

Fred.  The  sun. 

Sir  Rob.  The  sun !  he's  mad !  you  mean  the  moon  I  be- 
lieve. 

Fred.  O  my  dear  uncle,  you  don't  know  the  eflect  of  a  fine 
spring  morning  upon  a  young  fellow  just  arrived  from  ilussia. 
The  day  looked  bright,  trees  budding,  birds  singing,  the  park 
was  so  gay,  that  I  took  a  leap  out  of  your  old  balcony,  made 
your  deer  fly  before  me  hke  the  wind,  and  chased  them  all  round 
the  park,  to  get  an  appetite  while  you  were  snoring  in  bed,  uncle. 

*  Park,  a  large  piece  of  ground  enclosed,  in  wiaich  deer  and  other  beasts 
of  chase  are  kept. 


68  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Sir  Rob.  Oh,  oh  !  So  the  effect  of  English  sunshine  upon  a 
Russian  is  to  make  him  jump  out  of  a  balcony  and  worry  my 
deer. 
.   Fred.  I  confess  it  had  that  influence  upon  me. 

Sir  Rob.  You  had  better  be  influenced  by  a  rich  old  uncle, 
unless  you  think  the  sun  likely  to  leave  you  a  fat  legacy. 

Fred.  I  hate  legacies. 

Sir  Rob.  Sir,  that's  mighty  singular.  They  are  pretty  solid 
tokens  at  least. 

Fred.  Very  melancholy  tokens,  uncle  ;  they  are  the  posthu- 
mous despatches  which  affection  sends  to  gratitude  to  inform 
us  we  have  lost  a  gracious  friend. 

Sir  Rob.  How  charmingly  the  dog  argues. 

Fred.  But  I  own  my  spirits  run  away  with  me  this  morning. 
I  will  obey  you  better  in  future ;  for  they  tell  me  you  are  a 
very  worthy,  good  sort  of  old  gentleman. 

Sir  Rob.  Now,  who  had  the  familiar  impudence  to  tell  you 
that  ? 

Fred.  Old  rusty,  there. 

Sir  Rob.  Why,  Humphrey,  you  didn't  ? 

Humph.  Yes,  but  I  did,  though. 

Fi'ed.  Yes  he  did,  and  on  tliat  score  I  shall  be  anxious  to 
show  you  obedience,  for  'tis  as  meritorious  to  attempt  sharing 
a  good  man's  heart,  as  it  is  paltry  to  have  designs  upon  a  rich 
man's  money.  A  noble  nature  aims  its  attentions  full  breast 
high,  uncle  ;  a  mean  mind  levels  its  dirty  assiduities  at  the 
pocket. 

Sir  Rob.  {shakins;-  him  by  the  hand.)  Jump  out  of  ewry 
window  I  have  in  the  house ;  hunt  my  deer  into  high  fevers, 
my  fine  fellow.  Ay,  that's  right,  this  is  spunk  and  plain  speak- 
ing. Give  me  a  man  who  is  always  plumping  his  dissent  to 
my  doctrines  smack  in  my  teeth 

FYed.  I  disagree  with  you  there,  uncle. 

Humph.  And  so  do  I. 

F'ed.  You,  you  forward  puppy !  If  you  were  not  so  old, 
I'd  knock  you  down. 

Sir  Rob.  I'll  knock  you  down  if  you  do.  I  wont  have  my 
ser\ctnls  thump'd  into  dumb  flattery  ;  I  wont  let  you  teach  'em 
to  make  silence  a  toad-eater. 

Humph.  Come,  you  are  rufl^ed.  Let  us  go  to  the  business 
of  the  morning. 

Sir  Rob.  I  hate  the  business  of  the  morning.     Don't  you 
see  we  are  engaged  in  discussion.     I  tell  you,  I  hate  the  busi-  • 
ness  of  the  morning. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  6^ 

Humph.  No,  you  don't. 

Sir  Rob.  Don't  I  ?  Why  not  ? 

Humph.  Because  it's  charity. 

Sir  Rob.  Pshaw,*  then.  Well,  we  must  not  neglect  the 
business,  if  there  be  any  distress  in  the  parish ;  read  the  list, 
Humphrey. 

{Humphrey  takes  out  a  paper  and  reads.)  "  Jonathan  Hug- 
gins  of  Muck  Mead  is  put  in  prison." 

Sir  Rob.  Why,  it  was  only  last  week  that  Gripe,  the  attor- 
ney,! recovered  two  cottages  for  him  by  law,  worth  sixty  pounds. 

Humph.  And  charged  a  hundred  for  his  trouble ;  so  seiz'd 
the  cottages  for  part  of  his  bill,  and  threw  Jonathan  into  jail 
for  the  remainder. 

Sir  Rob.  A  harpy  !J  I  must  relieve  the  poor  fellow's  distress. 

Fred.  And  I  must  kick  his  attorney. 

Humph,  {reading.)  "  The  curate's ||  horse  is  dead." 

Sir  Rob.  Pshaw — there's  no  distress  in  that. 

Humph.  Yes,  there  is,  to  a  man  that  must  go  twenty  miles 
every  Sunday  to  preach,  for  thirty  pounds  a  year. 

Sir  Rob.  Why  won't  the  vicar'^  give  him  another  nag  ? 

Humph.  Because  'tis  cheaper  to  get  another  curate  ready 
mounted. 

Sir  Rob.  Well,  send  him  the  black  pad  which  I  purchased 
,ast  Tuesday,  and  tell  him  to  '.v  ork  him  as  long  as  he  lives. — 
What  else  have  we  upon  the  list  ? 

Humph.  Somewhat  out  of  the  common — there's  one  lieu- 
tenant Worthington,  a  disabled  oflicer,  and  a  widower,  come  to 
lodge  at  farmer  Harrowby's  in  the  village ;  he  is,  it  seems,  very 
poor,  but  more  proud  than  poor,  and  more  honest  than  prouu. 

*S/7'  Rob.  And  so  he  sends  to  me  for  assistance  ! 

Humph.  No,  he'd  sooner  die  than  ask  you  or  any  man  for 
a  shilling !  there's  his  daughter,  and  his  dead  wife's  aunt,  and 
an  old  corporal  that  has  served  in  the  wars  with  him — he  keeps 
them  all  upon  half  pay. 

Sir  Rob.  Starves  them  all,  I'm  afraid,  Humphrey. 

Fred,  {going.)  Good  morning,  uncle.' 

Sir  Rob.  You  rogue,  where  are  you  running  now  ? 

Fred.  To  talk  to  lieutenant  W^orthington. 

Sir  Rob.  And  what  may  you  be  going  to  say  to  him  ? 

*  Pronounced  shaw.  t  Pronounced  at-tur'-ne. 

t  Harpy,  a  fabulous  winged  monster,  noted  for  its  voraciousness  and  pol- 
lution. 

II  Curate,  a  clergyman  employed  in  the  place  of  a  vicar. 
§  Pronounced  vic'-ar,  the  priest  of  a  parish. 


70  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Fred.  I  can't  tell  'till  I  encounter  him,  and  then,  uncle, 
when  I  have  an  old  gentleman  by  the  hand  who  is  disabled  in 
his  country's  service,  and  struggling  to  support  his  motherless 
child,  a  poor  relation,  and  a  faithful  servant,  in  honorable 
indigence,  impulse  will  supply  me  with  words  to  express  my 
sentiments. 

Sir  Rob.  Stop,  you  rogue,  I  must  be  before  you  in  this 
business. 

Fred.  That  depends  upon  who  can  run  fastest ;  so  start 
fair,  uncle,  and  here  goes — {runs  out.) 

Sir  Rob.  Stop,  stop  ;  why,  Frederick — a  jackanapes — to 
take  my  department  out  of  my  hands.  I'll  disinherit  the  dog 
for  his  assurance. 

Humph.     No,  you  won't. 

Sir  Rob.  Won't  I  ?  Hang  me  if — but  we'll  argue  that  point 
as  we  go.     So,  come  along,  Humphrey.  [Exeunt. 


LESSON  XXXVII. 
Scene  between  Captain  Tackle  arid  Jack  Bowlin. 

Bowl.     Good  day  to  your  honor. 

Capt.     Good  day,  honest  Jack. 

Bowl.     To-day  is  my  captain's  birth-day. 

Capt,     I  know  it. 

Bowl.     I  am  heartily  glad  on  the  occasion. 

Capt.     I  know  that  too. 

Bowl.     Yesterday  your  honor  broke  your  sea-foam  pipe. 

Capt.  Well,  sir  booby,  and  why  must  I  be  put  in  mind  of 
it  ?  it  was  stupid  enougli  to  be  sure,  but  hark  ye.  Jack,  all  men 
at  limes  do  stupid  actions,  but  I  never  met  with  one  who  liked 
to  be  reminded  of  them. 

Bowl.  I  meant  no  harm,  your  honor.  It  was  only  a  kind 
of  introduction  to  M'hat  I  was  going  to  say.  I  have  been  buying 
this  pipe-head  and  ebony-tube,  and  if  the  thing  is  not  too  bad, 
and  my  captain  will  talce  such  a  present  on  his  birth-day,  for 
the  sake  of  poor  old  Jack 

Capt.     Is  that  what  you  would  be  at — Come,  let's  see. 

Bowl.  To  be  sure,  it  is  not  sea-foam  ;  but  my  captain  must 
think,  when  he  looks  at  it,  that  the  love  of  old  Jack  was  not 
mere  foam  neither. 

Capt.     Give  it  here,  my  honest  fellow. 

Bowl.     You  will  take  it  ? 

Capt.     To  be  sure  I  will. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  71 

Bowl  And  will  smoke  it  ? 

Capt.  That  I  will  {feeling  in  his  pocket.) 

Bowl.  And  will  not  think  of  giving  me  any  thing  in  return  ? 

Capt.  ( Withdrawing  his  hand  from  his  pocket.)  No,  no — 
You  are  ri<rht. 

Bowl.  Huzza!  now  let  mother  Grimkin  bake  her  almond 
cakes  out  of  her  daily  pilferings  and  be  hanged. 

Capt.  Fie,  Jack  !  what's  that  you  say ! 

Boivl.  The  truth.  I  have  just  come  from  the  kitchen,  where 
she  is  making  a  great  palaver  about  "her  cake"  and  "her  cake," 
and  yet  this  morning  slie  must  be  put  in  mind  that  it  was  her 
master's  birth-day.  Hang  me,  I  have  thought  of  nothing  else 
this  month. 

Capt.  And  because  you  have  a  better  memory,  you  must 
blame  the  poor  womian.     Shame  on  you. 

Bowl.  Please  your  honor,  she  is  an  old 

Capt.  Avast ! 

BoidI.  Yesterday  she  made  your  wine  cordial  of  sour  beer, 
80  to-day  she  makes  you  an  almond  cake  of 

Capt.  Hold  your  tongue,  sir. 

Bowl.  A'nt  you  obliged  to  beg  the  necessaries  of  life  as  if 
she  were  a  pope  or  admiral  ?  and  last  year  when  you  were  bled, 
though  she  had  laid  up  chest  upon  chest  full  of  linen,  and  all 
your's  if  the  truth  was  known,  yet  no  bandage  was  found  till  I 
tore  the  spare  canvass  from  my  Sunday  shirt  to  rig  your  honor's 
arm. 

Capt.  You  are  a  scandalous  fellow,  [throws  the  pipe  back 
to  him^)  away  with  you  and  your  pipe. 

Bowl.  {Loohiiig  attentively  at  his  master  and  the  pipe.) 
I  am  a  scandalous  fellow  ? 

Capt.  Yes! 

Bowl.  Your  honor  will  not  have  the  pipe  ? 

Capt.  No ;  I  will  take  nothing  from  him  who  would  raise 
his  own  character  at  the  expense  of  another  old  servant. 

(Jack  takes  up  the  pipe  and  throws  it  out  of  the  window.) 
What  are  you  doing  ? 

Bowl.  Throwing  the  pipe  out  of  the  window. 

Capt.  Are  you  mad  ? 

Bowl.  Why,  what  should  I  do  with  it  ?  You  will  not  have 
it,  and  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  use  it,  for  as  often  as  I  should 
puff  away  the  smoke,  I  should  think,  "  Old  Jack  Bowlin,  what 
a  pitiful  scamp  you  must  be,  a  man  whom  you  have  served 
honestly  and  truly  these  thirty  years,  and  who  must  know  you 
from  stem  to  stern,  sa3''s  you  are  a  scandalous  fellow,"  and  the 


72  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

thought  would  make  me  weep  like  a  child.  But  when  the  pipe 
is  gone,  I  shall  try  to  forget  the  whole  business,  and  say  to  my- 
self, "  my  poor  old  captain  is  sick,  and  does  not  mean  what  he 
said." 

Capt.  Jack,  come  here.  (Takes  his  hand.)  I  did  not  mean 
what  I  said. 

Bowl.  [Shakes  his  hand  heartily.)  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it. 
I  have  you  and  your  honor  at  heart,  and  when  I  see  such  an 
old  hypocritical  bell-wether  cheating  you  out  of  your  hard 
earned  wages,  it  makes  my  blood  boil 

Capt.  Are  you  at  it  again?  Shame  on  you.  You  have  open- 
ed your  heart  to-day,  and  given  me  a  peep  into  its  lowest  hold. 

Bowl.  So  much  the  better  !  for  you  will  then  see  that  my 
ballast  is  love  and  truth  to  my  master.  But  hark  ye,  master, 
it  is  certainly  worth  your  while  to  enquire  into  the  business. 

Capt.  And  hark  ye,  fellow,  if  I  find  you  have  told  me  a  lie, 
I'll  have  no  mercy  on  you.  I'll  turn  you  out  of  doors  to  starve 
in  the  street. 

Bowl.  No,  captain,  you  won't  do  that. 

Capt.  But  I  tell  you  I  will,  though.  I  will  do  it.  And  if 
you  say  another  word  I'll  do  it  now. 

Bowl.  Well,  then  away  goes  Jack  to  the  hospital. 

Capt.  What's  that  you  say?  hospital!  hospital!  you  rascal! 
what  will  you  do  there  ? 

Bowl.  Die. 

Capt.  And  so  you  will  go  and  die  in  an  hospital,  will  you  ? 
Why — why — you  lubber,  do  you  think  I  can't  take  care  of 
you  after  I  have  turned  you  out  of  doors,  hey  ? 

Bowl.  Yes,  I  dare  say  you  would  be  willing  to  pay  my 
board,  and  take  care  that  I  did  not  want  in  my  old  days,  but  I 
would  sooner  beg  than  pick  up  money  so  thrown  at  me. 

Capt.  Rather  beg  !  there's  a  proud  rascal ! 

Bowl.  He  that  don't  love  me  must  not  give  me  money. 

Capt.  Do  you  hear  that  ?  Is  not  this  enough  to  give  a  sound 
man  the  gout.  You  sulky  fellow,  do  you  recollect  twenty  years 
ago,  when  we  fell  into  the  clutches  of  the  Algerines.*  The 
pirates  stripped  me  of  my  last  jacket,  but  you,  you  lubber, 
who  was  it  hid  two  pieces  of  gold  in  his  hair,  and  who  was  it 
that  half  a  year  afterwards,  when  we  were  ransomed  and  turned 
naked  on  the  world,  shared  his  money  and  clothes  with  me  ? 
Hey,  fellow,  and  now  you  would  die  in  a  hospital. 

Bowl.  Nay  but  captain 

*  Algerines,  natives  of  Algiers,  a  city  and  government  on  the  c^iast  of 
Africa. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  73 

Ca'pt.  And  when  my  ship's  crew  mutinied,  at  the  risk  of  his 
life  he  disclosed  the  plot.  Have  you  forgotten  it,  you  lubber? 

Bowl.  Well,  and  didn't  you  build  my  old  mother  a  house  for 
it? 

Capt.  And  when  we  had  boarded  the  French  privateer,* 
and  the  captain's  hangerf  hung  over  my  head, "didn't  you  strike 
off  the  arm  that  was  going  to  split  my  skull!  Have  you  forgot 
that  too  ?  Have  I  built  you  a  house  for  that  ?  Will  you  die  in 
a  hospital  now — you  ungrateful  dog  !  hey  ? 

Bowl.  My  good  old  master  ! 

Capt.  Would  you  have  it  set  on  my  tomb  stone,  "here  lies 
an  unthankful  hound,  who  let  his  preserver  and  mess-mate  die 
in  a  hospital,"  would  you  ?  Tell  me  this  minute  you  will  live 
and  die  by  me,  you  lubber  !  Come  here  and  give  me  your  hand ! 

Bowl.  {Going  towards  hhn.)  My  noble,  noble  master. 

Capt.  Avast.  Stand  off,  take  care  of  my  lame  leg;  yet  I 
had  rather  you  should  hurt  that  than  my  heart,  my  old  boy. — . 
{Shakes  his  hand  heartily.)  Now  go  and  bring  me  the  pipe. 
Stop,  let  me  lean  on  you,  and  I  will  go  down  and  get  it  myself, 
and  use  it  on  my  birth-day.  You  would  die  in  an  hospital, 
would  you,  you  unfeeling  lubber  ? 


LESSON  XXXVHL 

The  Gentleman  and  his  Tenant. 

1.  A  COUNTRY  gentleman  had  an  estate  of  two  hundred 
pound s|  a  year,  which  he  kept  in  his  own  hands  till  he  found 
himself  so  much  in  debt,  that  he  was  obliged  to  sell  one  half  to 
satisfy  his  creditors,  and  let  the  remainder  to  a  farmer  for  one 
and  twenty  years. 

2.  Before  the  expiration  of  his  lease,  the  farmer  asked  the 
gentleman,  when  he  came  one  day  to  pay  his  rent,  whether  he 
would  sell  the  land  he  occupied.  "  Why,  will  you  purchase  it  ?" 
said  the  gentleman.  "  If  you  will  part  with  it,  and  we  can 
agree,"  replied  the  farmer. 

3.  "That  is  exceeding  strange,"  said  the  gentleman.  "Pray, 
tell  me  how  it  happens,  that  I  could  not  live  upon  twice  as  much 

♦  Privateer,  a  ship,  or  vessel  of  war,  owned  and  fitted  out  by  a  private 
man,  or  individuals,  and  commissioned  by  government  t^  seize  the  saips  of 
an  enemy  in  war. 

t  Hanger,  a  short  broad  sword. 

t  A  pound  sterling  is  four  dollars  forty-four  cents — 200  pounds  ie  888 
doUaTB. 

7 


74  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

land,  for  which  I  paid  no  rent,  and  that  you,  after  regularly 
paying  me  a  hundred  a  year  for  the  half,  are  able,  so  soon,  to 
purchase  it." 

4.  "  The  reason  is  plain,"  answered  the  farmer. — "  You  sat 
still,  and  said,  Go.  I  stood  up,  and  said.  Come.  You  lay  in 
bed,  and  enjoyed  your  ease.  I  rose  in  the  morning,  and  minded 
my  business." 


LESSON  XXXIX. 
Dishonesty  Punished. — Kane's  Hints. 

1.  An  usurer,*  having  lost  a  hundred  pounds  in  a  bag, 
promised  a  reward  of  ten  pounds  to  the  person  who  should 
restore  it.  A  man  having  brought  it  to  him,  demanded  the 
reward. 

The  usurer,  loth  to  give  the  reward,  now  that  he  had  got 
the  bag,  alleged,  after  the  bag  was  opened,  that  there  were  a 
hundred  and  ten  pounds  in  it,  when  he  lost  it.  The  usurer, 
being  called  before  the  judge,  unwarily  acknowledged  that  the 
seal  was  broken  open  in  his  presence,  and  that  there  were  no 
more  at  that  time  than  a  hundred  pounds  in  the  bag. 

3.  "  You  say,"  says  the  judge,  "  that  the  bag  you  lost  had 
a  hundred  and  ten  pounds  in  it."  "  Yes,  my  lord."  "  Then," 
replied  the  judge,  "  this  cannot  be  your  bag,  as  it  contained 
but  a  hundred  pounds;  therefore  the  plaintiff  must  keep  it  till 
the  true  owner  appears :  and  you  must  look  for  your  bag 
where  you  can  find  it." 


LESSON  XL. 

SOCRATEsf  AND  LEANDER. 

Disrespect  to  Parents^  is  in  no  case  allowable. 

1.  Leander,  the  eldest  son  of  Socrates,  fell  into  a  violent 
passion  with  his  mother.  Socrates  was  witness  to  this  shame- 
ful misbehavior,  and  attempted  the  correction  of  it,  in  the  fol- 
lowing gentle  and  rational  manner. 

2.  "  Come  hither,  son,"  said  he  ;  "  have  you  never  heard  of 
men,  who  are  called  ungrateful?"  "Yes,  frequently,"  answered 

*  Usurer,  one  who  lends  money,  and  takes  unlawful  interest. 

f  Socrates,  the  greatest  of  the  ancient  philosophers,  was  born  at  Athens  in 
Greece,  467  B.C.  He  was  unjustly  condemned  to  death  by  the  Athenians, 
on  a  charge  of  atheism,  400  B.  C. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  liS^ 

the  youth.  "  And  what  is  ingratitude  ?"  demanded  Socrates. 
"  It  is  to  receive  a  kindness,"  said  Leander,  "  without  making 
a  proper  return,  when  there  is  a  favorable  opportunity." 

3.  "Ingratitude  is  therefore  a  species  of  injustice,"  said 
Socrates.  "  I  should  think  so,"  answered  Leander.  "  If, 
then,"  pursued  Socrates,  "  ingratitude  be  injustice,  does  it  not 
follow,  that  the  degree  of  it  must  be  proportionate  to  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  favors  which  have  been  received  ?"  Leander 
admitted  the  inference  ;  and  Socrates  thus  pursued  his  interro- 
gations : 

4.  "  Can  there  subsist  higher  obligations  than  those  which 
children  owe  to  their  parents ;  from  whom  life  is  derived  and 
supported,  and  by  whose  good  oilices  it  is  rendered  honorable, 
useful,  and  happy  ?"  "  I  acknowledge  the  truth  of  what  you 
say,"  replied  Leander ;  "  but  who  could  suffer,  -without  resent- 
ment, the  ill  humors  of  such  a  mother  as  I  have  ?"  "  What 
strange  thing  has  she  done  to  you  ?"  said  Socrates. 

5.  "She  has  a  tongue,"  replied  Leander,  "that  no  mortal 
can  bear."  "How  much  more,"  said  Socrates,  "has  she  en- 
dured from  your  wrangling,  fretfulness,  and  incessant  cries,  in 
the  period  oi  infancy !  What  anxieties  has  she  suffered  from 
the  levities,  ca})riciousness,  and  follies,  of  your  childhood  and 
youth  !  What  afiliction  has  she  felt,  what  toil  and  watching  has 
she  sustained,  in  your  illnesses  !  These,  and  various  other  pow- 
erful motives  to  filial  duty  and  gratitude,  have  been  recognised* 
by  the  legislators  of  our  republic.  For  if  any  be  disrespect- 
ful to  his  parents,  he  is  not  permitted  to  enjoy  any  post  of  trust 
or  honor. 

6.  "  It  is  believed  that  a  sacrifice,  offered  by  an  impious 
hand,  can  neither  be  acceptable  to  Heaven  nor  proiitable  to  the 
state  ;  and  that  an  undutiful  son  cannot  be  capable  of  perform- 
ing any  great  action,  or  of  executing  justice  with  impartiality. 
Therefore,  my  son,  if  you  be  wise,  you  will  pray  to  heaven  to 
pardon  the  offences  committed  against  your  mother. 

7.  "  Let  no  one  discover  the  contempt  with  which  you  have 
treated  her  ;  for  the  world  will  condemn,  and  abandon  you  for 
such  behavior.  And  if  it  be  even  suspected,  that  you  repay 
with  ingratitude  the  good  offices  of  your  parents,  you  will  inevi- 
tably forego  the  kindness  of  others ;  because  no  man  will  sup- 
pose, that  you  have  a  heart  to  requite  either  his  favors  or  his 
friendship." 

Pronounced  Rec'-og-nizd. 


W        NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 
LESSON  XLL 

SOCRATES  AND  DEMETRIUS. 

Brethren  should  dwell  together  in  harmony. 

1.  Two  brothers,  named  Timon  and  Demetrius,  having  quar- 
relled with  each  other,  Socrates,  their  common  friend,  was  soli- 
citous to  restore  amity  between  them.  Meeting,  therefore,  with 
Demetrius,  he  thus  accosted  him  :  "  Is  not  friendship  the  sweet- 
est solace  in  adversity,  and  the  greatest  enhancement  of  the 
blessings  of  prosperity  ?"  "  Certainly  it  is,"  replied  Demetrius  ; 
"  because  our  sorrows  are  diminished,  and  our  joys  increased 
by  sympathetic  participation." 

2.  "Amongst  whom,  then,  must  we  look  for  a  friend?"  said 
Socrates.  "  Would  you  search  among  strangers  ?  They  can- 
not be  interested  about  you.  Amongst  your  rivals  ?  They 
have  an  interest  in  opposition  to  yours.  Amongst  those  who 
are  much  older,  or  younger  than  yourself?  Their  feelings  and 
pursuits  will  be  widely  different  from  yours.  Are  there  not, 
then,  some  circumstances  favorable,  and  others  essential,  to  the 
formation  of  friendship  ?" 

3.  "  Undoubtedly  there  are,"  answered  Demetrius.  "  May 
we  not  enumerate,"  continued  Socrates,  "  amongst  the  circum- 
stances favorable  to  friendship,  long  acquaintance,  common 
connexions,  similitude  of  age,  and  union  of  interest  ?"  "  I 
acknowledge,"  said  Demetrius,  "  the  powerful  influence  of  these 
circumstances :  but  they  may  subsist,  and  yet  others  be  want- 
ing, that  are  essential  to  mutual  amity." 

4.  "  And  what,"  said  Socrates,  "  are  those  essentials  which 
are  wanting  in  Timon  ?"  "  He  has  forfeited  my  esteem  and 
attachment,"  answered  Demetrius,  "  And  has  he  also  forfeited 
the  esteem  and  attachment  of  the  rest  of  mankind  ?"  continued 
Socrates.  "  Is  he  devoid  of  benevolence,  generosity,  gratitude, 
and  other  social  aft'ections  ?"  "  Far  be  it  from  me,"  cried  Deme- 
trius, "  to  lay  so  heavy  a  charge  upon  him  :  his  conduct  to 
others  is,  I  believe,  irreproachable;  and  it  wounds  me  the  more, 
that  he  should  single  me  out  as  the  object  of  hisunkindness." 

5.  "  Suppose  you  have  a  very  valuable  horse,"  resumed 
Socrates,  "  gentle  under  the  treatment  of  others,  but  ungovern- 
able, when  you  attempt  to  use  him ;  would  you  not  endeavor 
by  all  means,  to  conciHate  his  affection,  and  to  treat  him  in  the 
way  most  likely  to  render  liim  tractable  ?  Or,  if  you  have  a  dog, 
highly  prized  for  his  fidelity,  Avatchfulness,  and  care  of  your 
flocks,  who  is  fond  of  your  shepherds,  and  playful  with  them> 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  ft 

and  yet  snarls  whenever  you  come  in  his  way ;  would  you 
attempt  to  cure  him  of  this  fault  by  angry  looks  or  words,  or  by 
any  other  marks  of  resentment  ?  You  would  surely  pursue  an 
opposite  course  with  him. 

6.  "  And  is  not  the  friendship  of  a  brother  of  far  more  worth, 
than  the  services  of  a  horse,  or  the  attachment  of  a  dog  ?  Why 
then  do  you  delay  to  put  in  practice  those  means,  which  may 
reconcile  you  to  Timon  ?"  "Acquaint  me  with  those  means," 
answered  Demetrius,  "  for  I  am  a  stranger  to  them."  "  Answer 
me  a  few  questions,"  said  Socrates. 

7.  "  If  you  desire  that  one  of  your  neighbors  should  invite 
you  to  his  feast,  when  he  offers  a  sacrifice,  what  course  would 
you  take  ?" — "  I  would  first  invite  him  to  mine." — "  And  how 
would  you  induce  him  to  take  the  charge  of  your  affairs,  when 
you  are  on  a  journey?" — "I  should  be  forward  to  do  the  same 
good  office  to  him,  in  his  absence." 

8.  "  If  you  be  solicitous  to  remove  a  prejudice,  which  he  may 
have  received  against  you,  how  would  you  then  behave  towards 
him  ?" — "  I  should  endeavor  to  convince  him,  by  my  looks, 
words,  and  actions,  that  such  prejudice  was  ill  founded." — 
"  And  if  he  appeared  inclined  to  reconciliation,  would  you 
reproach  him  with  the  injustice  he  had  done  you  ?"  "  No," 
answered  Demetrius  ;  "  I  would  repeat  no  grievances." 

9.  "  Go,"  said  Socrates,  "  and  pursue  that  conduct  towards 
your  brother,  which  you  would  practise  to  a  neighbor.  His 
friendship  is  of  inestimable  worth  ;  and  nothing-  is  more  lovely 
in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  than  for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in 
unity." 


LESSON  XLII. 

The  Dead  Horse. — Sterne.* 

1.  And  this,  said  he,  putting  the  remains  of  a  crust  into  his 
wallet — and  this  should  have  been  tliy  portion,  said  he,  hadst 
thou  been  alive  to  have  shared  it  with  me.  I  thought  by  the 
accent  it  had  been  an  apostrophe  to  his  child  ;  but  it  was  to  his 
horse,  and  to  the  very  horse  we  had  seen  dead  in  the  road, 
which  had  occasioned  La  Fleur's  misadventure.  The  man 
seemed  to  lament  it  much ;  and  it  instantly  brought  into  my 
mind  Sancho's  lamentation  for  his ;  but  he  did  it  with  more  true 
touches  of  nature. 

*  Laurence  bterne,  an  eminent  writer,  was  born  at  Clomweil,  in  Ireland, 
1713.     He  died  HtiS,  in  London. 

7* 


78  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

2.  The  mourner  was  sitting  upon  a  stone  bench  at  the  door, 
with  the  horse's  panncl  and  its  bridle  on  one  side,  which  he 
took  up  from  time  to  time — then  laid  them  down — looked  at 
them,  and  shook  his  head.  He  then  took  his  crust  of  bread  out 
of  his  wallet  again,  as  if  to  eat  it ;  held  it  some  time  in  his  hand 
— then  laid  it  upon  the  bit  of  his  horse's  bridle — looked  wistfully 
at  the  little  arrangement  he  had  made — and  then  gave  a  sigh. 

2.  The  simplicity  of  his  grief  drew  numbers  about  him,  and 
La  Fleur  among  the  rest,  while  the  horses  were  getting  ready  ; 
as  I  continued  sitting  in  the  post  chaise,  I  could  see  and  hear 
over  their  heads. 

4.  He  said  he  had  come  last  from  Spain,  where  he  had  been 
from  the  farthest  borders  of  Franconia:*  and  had  got  so  far 
on  his  return  home,  Avhen  his  horse  died.  Every  one  seemed 
desirous  to  know  what  business  could  ha^e  taken  so  old  and 
poor  a  man  so  far  a  journey  from  his  own  home. 

5.  "  It  had  pleased  Heaven,"  he  said,  "  to  bless  him  with 
three  sons,  the  finest  lads  in  all  Germany ;  but  having  in  one 
week  lost  two  of  them  by  the  small  pox,  and  the  youngest  fall- 
ing ill  of  the  same  distemper,  he  was  afraid  of  being  bereft  of 
them  all,  and  made  a  vow,  if  Heaven  would  not  take  him  from 
him  also,  he  would  go  in  gratitude  to  St.  Jago  in  Spain," 

6.  When  the  mourner  got  thus  far  in  his  story,  he  stopped  to 
pay  nature  her  tribute — and  wept  bitterly.  He  said,  "  Heaven 
had  accepted  the  conditions  ;  and  that  he  had  set  out  from  his 
cottage  with  this  poor  creature,  who  had  been  a  patient  partner 
of  his  journey — that  it  had  eaten  the  same  bread  with  him  all 
the  way,  and  was  unto  him  as  a  friend." 

7.  Every  body  who  stood  about  heard  the  poor  fellow  witii 
concern.  La  Fleur  offered  him  money — The  mourner  said  he 
did  not  want  it — it  was  not  the  value  of  the  horse — but  the  loss 
of  him — The  horse,  he  said,  he  was  assured  loved  him — and 
upon  this  told  them  a  long  story  of  a  mischance  upon  their  pas- 
sage over  the  Pyrenean  mountains,!  which  had  separated  them 
from  each  other  three  days ;  during  which  time  the  horse  had 
sought  him  as  much  as  he  had  sought  the  horse,  and  that  neither 
had  scarce  eat  or  drank  till  they  met." 

8.  "  Thou  hast  one  comfort,  friend,"  said  I,  "at  least,  in  the 
loss  of  thy  poor  beast ;  I  am  sure  thou  hast  been  a  merciful 
master  to  him." — "Alas!"  said  the  mourner,  "I  thought  so, 
when  he  was  alive — but  now  he  is  dead,  I  think  otherwise — I 

*  Formerly  a  province,  or  circle  of  Gorniany. 

t  Py-re'-ne-an  mountains,  between  France  and  Spain. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  79 

fear  the  weight  of  myself  and  my  afflictions  together  have  been 
too  much  for  him — they  have  shortened  the  poor  creature's 
days,  and  I  fear  I  have  'them  to  answer  for." — "  Shame  on  the 
world  !"  said  I  to  myself—"  Did  we  but  love  each  other,  as 
this  DOor  soul  loved  his  horse — 'twould  be  something." 


LESSON  XLIII. 

Biogra/phical  Anecdotes. 

\.  An  amiable  youth  lamented,  in  terms  of  deep  and  moving 
grief,  the  recent  death  of  a  most  affectionate  parent.  His  com- 
panions  made  an  effort  to  console  him  by  the  reflection,  that  he 
nad  always  behaved  towards  the  deceased  with  duty,  tender- 
ness, end  respect.  "  So  I  thought,''  replied  the  youth,  "  while 
my  parent  was  living,  but  now  recollect  with  pain  and  sor- 
row, many  instances  of  disobedience  and  neglect,  for  which, 
alas  !  it  is  too  late  to  make  atonement." 

2.  Sir  Isaac  Newton*  possessed  a  remarkable  mild  and  even 
temper.  This  great  man,  on  a  particular  occasion,  was  called 
out  of  his  study  to  an  atljoining  apartment.  A  little  dog  named 
Diamond,  the  constant,  but  incurious  attendant  of  his  master's 
researches,  happened  to  be  left  amon?  the  papers  ;  he  threw 
down  alighted  candle,  which  consumed,  in  a  moment,  the  almost 
finished  labors  of  many  years.  Sir  Isaac  soon  returned,  and 
had  the  mortification  to  behold  his  irreparable  loss.  But,  with 
his  usual  self-possession,  he  only  exclaimed,  O  Diamond  !  Dia- 
mond! thou  little  knowcst  the  mischief  thou  hast  done. 

3.  Queen  Caroline  having  observed  that  her  daughter,  the 
princess,  had  made  one  of  the  ladies  about  her  stand  a  long 
time,  while  the  princess  was  talking  to  her  on  some  trifling 
subject,  was  resolved  to  give  a  suitable  reprimand.  Therefore, 
v/hen  the  princess  came  in  the  evening  to  read  to  her,  as  was 
usual,  and  was  drawing  a  chair  to  sit  down,  the  queen  said  to 
her,  no,  my  dear,  at  present  you  must  not  sit ;  for  I  intend  to 
make  you  stand  this  evening  as  long  as  you  suffered  lady 
B to  remain  in  the  same  position. 

4.  The  benevolent  and  immortal  John  Howard,!  having 
settled  his  accounts  at  the  close  of  a  particular  year,  and  found 
a  balance  in  his  favor,  proposed  to  his  lady  to  employ  it  in 
defravino-  the  expense  of  a  jovrney  to  London,  or  any  other 

*  All  EngUrih  philosopher,  born  in  1642.  and  died  in  17"27. 
t  A  celebrated  EngUdh  philanthropist,  born  in  17'2(>,  and  died  1790.     His 
life  was  devoted  to  the  work  of  discovering  and  reibnning  the  evils  of  prisons. 


80  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

amusement  which  she  might  think  preferable.  "  What  a  pretty 
httlc  cottage,"  she  rephed,  "would  this  build  for  a  poor  family.^' 
This  charitable  hint  met  his  cordial  approbation,  and  the  money 
was  laid  out  accordingly. 

5.  Horace,  a  celebrated  Roman  poet,  relates  that  a  country- 
man, who  wanted  to  pass  a  river,  stood  loitering  on  the  banks 
of  it,  in  the  foolish  expectation,  that  a  current  so  rapid  would 
soon  discharge  its  waters.  But  the  stream  still  flowed,  (in- 
creased perhaps  by  fresh  torrents  from  the  mountains,)  and  it 
must  for  ever  flow;  because  the  source  from  which  it  is  derived, 
is  inexhaustible. — Thus  the  idle  and  irresolute  youth  trifles 
over  his  books,  or  squanders,  in  childish  pursuits,  his  precious 
moments,  deferring  the  business  of  improvement,  (which  at 

Jirst  might  be  rendered  easy  and  agreeable,  but  which,  by  de- 
lay, becomes  more  and  more  difficult,)  until  the  golden  sands 
of  opportunity  have  all  run,  and  he  is  called  to  action  without 
possessing  the  requisite  ability. 

6.  Philip  III.  king  of  Spain,  when  he  drew  near  the  end  of 
his  days,  (seriously  reflecting  on  his  past  life,  and  being  greatly 
affected  by  the  remembrance  of  his  misspent  time,)  expressed 
his  deep  regret  in  the  following  terms:  "Ah,  how  happy  would 
it  have  been  for  me,  had  I  spent,  in  retirement,  and  the  im- 
provement of  my  mind,  these  twenty-three  years  that  I  possess- 
ed my  kingdom." 


LESSON  XLIV. 

The  Revenge  of  a  Great  Soul. 

1.  Demetrius  Poliorcetes,*  who  had  done  singular  services 
for  the  people  of  the  city  of  Athens,  on  setting  out  for  a  war 
in  which  he  was  engaged,  left  his  wife  and  children  to  their 
protection.  He  lost  the  battle,  and  was  obliged  to  seek  secu- 
rity for  his  person  in  flight. 

2.  He  doubted  not,  at  first,  but  that  he  should  find  a  safe 
asylum  among  his  good  friends,  the  Athenians ;  but  those  un- 
grateful people  refused  to  receive  him,  and  even  sent  back  to 
him  his  wife  and  children,  under  pretence,  that  they  probably 
might  not  be  safe  in  Athens,  where  the  enemy  might  come  and 
take  th(;m. 

.  3.  This  conduct  pierced  the  heart  of  Demetrius;  for  nothing 
is  so  affecting  to  an  honest  mind,  as  the  ingratitude  of  those  we 
loVe,  and  to  whom  we  have  done  singular  services.    Some  time 

♦  PronounreJ  Dc-me'-tri-us  Po-li-or'-c^-tces,  a  king  oi  Maccdon.  He 
died  286  B.  C. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  81 

afterwards,  this  prince  recovered  his  affairs,  and  came  with  a 
large  army  to  lay  siege  to  Athens. 

4.  The  Athenians,  persuaded  that  they  had  no  pardon  to 
expect  from  Demetrius,  determined  to  die  sword  in  hand,  and 
passed  a  decree,  which  condemned  to  death  those  who  should 
first  propose  to  surrender  to  that  prince ;  but  they  did  not  re- 
collect that  there  was  but  little  corn  in  the  city,  and  that  they 
would  in  a  short  time  be  in  want  of  bread. 

5.  Want  soon  made  them  sensible  of  their  error ;  and,  after 
having  suffered  hunger  for  a  long  time,  the  most  reasonable 
among  them  said,  "  It  would  be  better  that  Demetrius  should 
kill  us  at  once,  than  for  us  to  die  by  the  lingering  death  of 
famine.  Perhaps  he  will  have  pity  on  our  wives  and  children." 
They  then  opened  to  him  the  gates  of  the  city. 

6.  Demetrius  having  taken  possession  of  the  city,  ordered 
that  all  the  married  men  should  assemble  in  a  spacious  place 
appointed  for  the  purpose,  and  that  the  soldiery,  sword  in  hand, 
should  surround  them.  Cries  and  lamentations  were  then 
heard  from  every  quarter  of  the  city ;  women  embracing  their 
husbands,  children  their  parents,  and  all  taking  an  eternal  fare- 
well of  each  other. 

7.  When  the  married  men  were  all  thus  collected,  Demetrius, 
for  whom  an  elevated  situation  was  provided,  reproached  them 
for  their  ingratitude  in  the  most  feeling  manner,  insomuch  that 
he  himself  could  not  help  shedding  tears.  Demetrius  for  some 
time  remained  silent,  while  the  Athenians  expected,  that  the 
next  words  he  uttered  would  be  to  order  his  soldiers  to  mas- 
sacre them  all. 

8.  It  is  hardly  possible  to  say  what  must  have  been  their 
surprise  when  they  heard  that  good  prince  say, — "  I  wish  to 
convince  you  how  ungenerously  you  have  treated  me ;  for  it 
was  not  to  an  enemy  you  have  refused  assistance,  but  to  a 
prince  who  loved  you,  who  still  loves  you,  and  who  wishes  to 
revenge  himself  only  by  granting  your  pardon,  and  by  being 
still  your  friend.  Return  to  your  own  homics :  while  you 
have  been  here,  my  soldiers  have  been  filling  your  houses  with 
provisions." 

LESSON  XLV. 

Death  of  Prince  William. — Goldsmith. 

1.  Henry  I.*  king  of  England,  had  a  son  called  William,  a 
brave  and  active  youth,  who  had  arrived  at  his  eighteenth  year. 
*  Henry  I.  commenced  his  reign  A.  D.  1100.     He  died  1135. 


82  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

The  king  loved  him  most  tenderly,  and  took  care  to  have  him 
recognized  as  his  successor  by  the  states  of  England  ;  and  car- 
ried him  over  to  Normandy,  in  the  north  of  France,  to  receive 
the  homage  of  the  barons  of  that  duchy. 

2.  Having  performed  the  requisite  ceremony,  the  king  set 
sail  for  England,  accompanied  by  a  splendid  retinue  of  the  prin- 
cipal nobility.  William,  his  son,  was  detained  by  some  acci- 
dent, for  several  hours  ; — and  the  crew  having  spent  the  inter- 
val in  drinking,  became  so  intoxicated,  that  they  ran  the  ship 
upon  a  rock  :  and  it  was  immediately  dashed  in  pieces. 

3.  The  prince  was  put  into  a  boat,  and  might  have  escaped 
had  he  not  been  called  back  by  the  cries  of  his  sister.  He  pre- 
vailed upon  the  sailors  to  row  back  and  take  her  in ; — but  no 
sooner  had  the  boat  approached  the  wreck,  than  numbers  who 
had  been  left,  jumped  into  it,  and  the  whole  were  drowned. 
King  Henry,  when  he  heard  of  the  death  of  his  son,  fainted 
away,  and  from  that  moment,  he  never  smiled  again. 

He  never  smiled  again, — Mrs.  Hemans. 

1.  The  bark*  that  held  a  prince  went  down, 
The  sweeping  waves  rolled  on, 

And  what  was  England's  glorious  crown 

To  him  that  wept  a  son  ? 
He  lived — for  life  may  long  be  borne 

Ere  sorrow  break  its  chain ; 
Why  comes  not  death  to  those  who  mourn  ? 

— He  never  smiled  again. 

2.  There  stood  proud  forms  around  his  throne. 
The  stately  and  the  brave ; 

But  which  could  fill  the  place  of  one  ? 

That  one  beneath  the  wave. 
Before  him  passed  the  young  and  fair, 

In  pleasure's  reckless  train  ; 
But  seas  dash'd  o'er  his  son's  bright  hair — 

— He  never  smiled  again. 

3.  He  sat  where  festal  bowls  went  round ; 
He  heard  the  minstrelf  sing ; 

He  saw  the  tourney's  J  victor  crowned, 
Amidst  the  knightly  ring. 

*  Bark,  a  small  vessel. 

t  Minstrel,  a  singer  and  musical  f>erformer  on  instruments. 

t  Pronounced  tur'-ne,  a  martial  sport  or  exercise. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  ^ 

A  murmur  of  the  restless  deep 

Was  blent  with  every  stream ; 
A  voice  of  winds  that  would  not  sleep-^ 

— He  never  smiled  again. 

4.  Hearts  in  that  time  closed  o'er  the  trace 

Of  vows  once  fondly  pour'd  ; 
And  strangers  took  the  kinsman's  place 

At  many  a  joyous  board. 
Graves  which  true  love  had  bathed  with  tears, 

Were  left  to  heaven's  bright  rain ; 
Fresh  hopes  were  born  for  other     years — 

— He  never  smiled  again. 


LESSON  XLVI. 

The  Shepherd  and  the  Philosopher, 

1.  Remote  from  cities  liv'd  a  swain,* 
Unvex'd  with  all  the  cares  of  gain  : 
His  head  was  silver'd  o'er  with  age, 
And  long  experience  made  him  sage ; 
In  summer's  heat  and  winter's  cold, 
He  fed  his  flock  and  pcnn'd  the  fold ; 
His  hours  in  cheerful  labor  flew. 

Nor  envy  nor  ambition  knew : 
His  wisdom  and  his  honest  fame 
Through  all  the  coimtry  rais'd  his  name, 

2.  A  deep  philosopher,  whose  rules 
Of  moral  life  were  drawn  from  schools. 
The  shepherd's  homely  cottage  sought, 
And  thus  explor'd  his  reach  of  thought. 

"Whence  is  thy  learning?  Hath  thy  toil 
O'er  books  consum'd  the  midnight  oil  ? 
Hast  thou  old  Greece  and  Rome  survey'd. 
And  the  vast  sense  of  Platof  weigh'd  ? 
Hath  Socrates  thy  soul  refin'd, 
And  hast  thou  fathom'd  Tully's:};  mind  ? 

♦Swain,  a  shepherd. 

t  Plato,  an  illustrious  Grecian  philosopher— died  at  Athens,  348  B.  C. 

t  Marcus  TuUius  Cicero,  one  of  the  greatest  men  of  antiquity,  whether  we 
consider  him  as  an  orator,  a  statesman,  or  philosopher.  He  was  bom  at  Ar- 
pinum,  (now  included  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples,)  107  B.  C.  He  waabase- 
ly  assassinated  by  order  of  Mark  Anthony,  42  B.  C, 


84  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Or,  like  the  wise  Ulysses,*  thrown. 
By  various  fates,  on  realms  unknown. 
Hast  thou  through  many  cities  stray'd, 
Their  customs,  laws,  and  manners  weigh'd  ?" 

3.  The  shepherd  modestly  replied, 
"  I  ne'er  the  paths  of  learning  tried ; 
Nor  have  I  roam'd  in  foreign  parts. 
To  read  mankind,  their  laws  and  arts  ; 
For  man  is  practis'd  in  disguise. 

He  cheats  the  most  discerning  eyes. 
Who  by  that  search  shall  wiser  grow  ? 
By  that  ourselves  we  never  know. 
The  little  knowledge  I  have  gain'd 
Was  all  from  simple  nature  drain'd ; 
Hence  my  life's  maxims  took  their  rise, 
Hence  grew  my  settled  hate  of  vice. 

4.  "  The  daily  labors  of  the  bee 
Awake  my  soul  to  industry. 
Who  can  observe  the  careful  ant. 
And  not  provide  for  future  want? 
My  dog  (the  trustiest  of  his  kind) 
With  gratitude  inflames  my  mind. 
I  mark  his  true,  his  faithful  way, 
And  in  my  service  copy  Tray ; 
In  constancy  and  nuptial  love, 

I  learn  my  duty  from  the  dove. 
The  hen,  who  from  the  chilly  air, 
With  pious  wing  protects  her  care, 
And  every  fowl  that  flies  at  large,  ' 
Instructs  me  in  a  parent's  charge. 

5.  "  From  nature  too,  I  take  my  rule, 
To  shun  contempt  and  ridicule. 

I  never,  with  important  air. 
In  conversation  overbear. 
Can  grave  and  formal  pass  for  wise. 
When  men  the  solemn  owl  despise  ? 
My  tongue  within  my  lips  I  rein  ; 
For  who  talks  much,  must  talk  in  vain. 
We  from  the  wordy  torrent  fly ; 
Who  listens  to  the  chatt'ring  pief  ? 

♦A  Grecian  commander  at  the  siege  of  Troy. 

t  Pie^  the  magpie,  a  chattering  bird  resembling  a  crow. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  85 

Nor  would  I,  with  felonious  flight, 
By  stealth  invade  my  neighbor's  right. 

6.  "  Rapacious  animals  we  hate  ; 
Kites,  hawks,  and  wolves,  deserve  their  fate. 
Do  not  we  just  abhorrence  find 
Against  the  toad  and  serpent  kind  ? 
But  envy,  calumny,  and  spite, 
Bear  stronger  venom  in  their  bite. 
Thus  ev'ry  object  of  creation 
Can  furnish  hints  to  contemplation  ? 
And  from  the  most  minute  and  mean, 
A  \irtuous  mind  can  morals  glean." 

7.  "  Thy  fame  is  just,"  the  sage  replies, 
"  Thy  virtue  proves  thee  truly  wise. 
Pride  often  guides  the  author's  pen, 
Books  as  affected  are  as  men  : 
But  he,  who  studies  nature's  laws. 
From  certain  truth  his  maxims  draws ; 
And  those  without  our  schools,  suffice 
To  make  men  moral,  good,  and  wise." 


LESSON  XLVIL 

The  Youth  and  the  Philosopher. —Whitehead. 

^tt]'  ^  CrREciAN  youth,  of  talcuts  rare, 

Whom  Plato's  philosophic  care 

Had  formed  for  virtue's  nobler  view, 

By  precept  and  example  too, 

Would  often  boast  his  matchless  skill, 

To  curb  the  steed,  and  guide  the  wheel ; 

And  as  he  pass'd  the  gazing  throng, 

With  graceful  ease,  and  smack'd  the  thonff, 

1  he  idiot  wonder  thev  express'd. 

Was  praise  and  transport  to  his  breast. 

2.  At  length,  quite  vain,  he  needs  would  show 
Wis  master  what  his  art  could  do  ; 
And  bade  his  slaves  the  chariot  lead 
To  Academus'*  sacred  shade. 


8 


86  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

The  trembling  grove  confessM  its  fright, 
The  wood-nymphs  started  at  the  sight ; 
The  muses  drop  the  learned  lyre, 
And  to  their  inmost  shades  retire. 

3.  Howe'er  the  youth  with  forward  air, 
Bows  to  the  sage  and  mounts  the  car. 
The  lash  resounds,  the  coursers  spring. 
The  chariot    marks  the  rolling  ring ; 
And  gath'ring  crowds,  with  eager  eyes 
And  shouts,  pursue  him  as  he  flies. 

4.  Triumphant  to  the  goal*  return'd. 
With  noble  thirst  his  bosom  burn'd ; 
And  now  along  the  indented  plain 
The  self-same  track  he  marks  again. 
Pursues  with  care  the  nice  design. 
Nor  ever  deviates  from  the  line. 
Amazement  seiz'd  the  circling  crowd  ; 
The  youths  with  emulation  glow'd ; 
Ev'n  beardedf  sages  hail'd  the  boy ; 
And  all  but  Plato  gaz'd  with  joy. 

5.  For  he,  deep-judging  sage,  beheld 
With  pain  the  triumphs  of  the  field  ; 
And  when  the  charioteer  drew  nigh. 

And  flush'd  with  hope,  had  caught  his  eye, 

"  Alas  !  unhappy  youth,"  he  cry'd, 

"  Expect  no  praise  from  me,"  and  sigh'd. 

6.  "  With  indignation  I  survey 
Such  skill  and  judgment  thrown  away : 
The  time  profusely  squandered  there. 
On  vulgar  arts  beneath  thy  care. 

If  well  employed,  at  less  expense, 
Had  taught  thee  honor,  virtue,  sense ; 
And  rais'd  thee  from  a  coachman's  fate 
To  govern  men  and  guide  the  state." 


LESSON  XLVIII. 

Naval  Action. 

1.  Mr.  Richard  Hornby,  of  Stokesly,  was  master  of  a  mer- 
chant ship,  the  Isabella  of  Sunderland,  in  which  he  sailed  from 
the  coast  of  Norfolk  for  the  Hague,  June  1,  1774,  in  company 
with  three  smaller  vessels  recommended  to  his  care. 

♦  Pronounced  gole,  a  starting  post.  t  Pronounced  Beerd'-ed. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  87 

2.  Next  day  they  made  Gravesend  steeple,  in  the  Hague ; 
but  while  they  were  steering  for  their  port,  the  Brancas,  a 
French  privateer,  that  lay  concealed  among  the  Dutch  fishing 
boats,  suddenly  came  against  them,  singling  out  the  Isabella, 
as  the  object  of  attack,  while  the  rest  dispersed  and  escaped. 

3.  The  strength  of  the  two  ships  was  most  unequal ;  for  the 
Isabella  mounted  only  four  carriage  guns  and  two  swivels,  and 
her  crew  consisted  of  only  five  men,  three  boys,  besides  the 
captain ;  while  the  privateer,  commanded  by  Captain  Andre, 
had  ten  carriage  guns  and  eight  swivels,  with  seventy-five  men 
and  three  hundred  small  arms.  Yet  Captain  Hornby  was  nothing 
daunted. 

4.  Having  animated  his  little  crew  by  an  appropriate  ad- 
dresi^,  and  obtained  their  promise  of  standing  by  him  to  the 
last,  he  hoisted  the  British  colors,  and  with  his  two  swivel 
guns  returned  the  fire  of  the  enemy's  chase  guns.  The  French- 
man, in  abusive  terms,  commanded  him  to  strike.* 

5.  Hornby  coolly  returned  an  answer  of  defiance,  on  which 
the  privateer  advanced,  and  poured  such  showers  of  bullets  into 
the  Isabella,  that  the  captain  found  it  prudent  to  order  his 
brave  fellows  into  close  quarters.  While  he  lay  thus  shelter- 
ed, the  enemy  twice  attempted  to  board  him  on  the  larboardf 
quarter ;  but  by  the  dexterous  turn  of  the  helm,  he  frustrated 
both  attempts,  though  the  Frenchman  kept  firing  upon  him 
both  with  guns  and  small  arms. 

6.  At  two  o'clock,  when  the  action  had  lasted  an  hour,  the 
privateer,  running  furiously  in  upon  the  larboard  of  the  Isabella, 
entangled  her  bowsprit  among  the  main  shrouds,  and  was  lash- 
ed fast  to  her. — Captain  Andre  now  bawled  out  in  a  menacing 
tone,  "  You  English  dog,  strike."  Captain  Hornby  challenged 
him  to  come  on  board  and  strike  his  colors  if  he  dared. 

7.  The  exasperated  Frenchman  instantly  threw  in  twenty 
men  on  the  Isabella,  who  began  to  hack  and  hew  into  close 
quarters;  but  a  general  discharge  of  blunderbusses^  forced  the 
assailants  to  retreat  as  fast  as  their  wounds  would  permit.  The 
privateer,  being  now  disengaged  from  the  Isabella,  turned 
about  and  made  another  attempt  on  the  starboard ||  side,  when 
the  valiant  Hornby  and  his  mate,  shot  each  his  man,  as  the 
enemy  were  again  lashing  the  ships  together. 

♦  Strike,  to  let  down  the  flag  or  ensign, 
t  Larboard,  the  left  hand  side  of  the  ship. 

t  Blunderbuss,  a  short  gun,  with  a  large  bore,  capable  of  |holding  a  num- 
ber of  balls. 

II  Starboard,  the  right  hand  side  of  the  ship. 


88  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

8.  The  Frenchman  once  more  commanded  him  to  strike ; 
and  the  brave  Enghshman  retm-ning  another  refusal,  twenty 
fresh  men  entered,  and  made  a  fierce  attack  on  the  close  quar- 
ters with  hatchets  and  pole  axes,  with  which  they  had  nearly 
cut  their  way  through  in  three  places,  when  the  constant  fire 
kept  up  by  Captain  Hornby  and  his  crew,  obliged  them  a 
second  time  to  retreat,  carrying  their  wounded  with  them,  and 
hauling  their  dead  after  them  with  boat  hooks. 

9.  The  Isabella  continued  still  lashed  to  the  enemy,  the 
latter  with  small  arms,  firing  repeated  volleys  into  her  close 
quarters  ;  but  the  fire  was  returned  with  such  spirit  and  effect, 
the  Frenchman  repeatedly  gave  way. 

10.  At  length  Captain  Hornby,  seeing  them  crowding  be- 
hind their  mainmast  for  shelter,  aimed  a  blunderbuss  at  tuem, 
which,  being  by  mistake  doubly  loaded,  containing  twice 
twelve  balls,  burst  in  the  firing,  and  threw  him  down,  to  the 
great  consternation  of  his  little  crew,  who  supposed  him  dead. 

11.  In  an  instant,  however,  he  started  up  again,  though 
greatly  bruised,  while  the  enemy,  among  whom  the  blunder- 
buss had  made  dreadful  havoc,  disengaged  themselves  from  the 
Isabella,  to  which  they  had  been  lashed  an  hour  and  a  quar- 
ter, and  sheered  oflf  with  precipitation,  leaving  their  grap- 
plings,  and  a  quantity  of  pole-axes,  pistols,  and  cutlasses  be- 
hind them. 

12.  The  gallant  Hornby  now  exultingly  fired  his  two  star- 
board guns  into  the  enemy's  stern.  The  indignant  Frenchman 
immediately  returned  and  renewed  the  conflict,  which  was  car- 
ried on  yard-arm  and  yard-arm,  with  great  fury  for  two  hours 
together. 

13.  The  Isabella  was  shot  through  her  hull*  several  times, 
her  sails  and  rigging  were  torn  to  pieces,  her  ensign  was  dis- 
mounted, and  every  mast  and  yard  damaged  ;  yet  she  still 
bravely  maintained  the  conflict,  and  at  last,  by  a  fortunate  shot 
which  struck  the  Brancas  between  wind  and  water,  obliged  her 
to  sheer  ofi"  and  careen. f 

14.  While  the  enemy  were  retiring,  Hornby,  and  his  little 
crew,  sallied  out  from  their  fastness,  and,  erecting  their  fallen 
ensign,  gave  three  cheers.  By  this  time,  both  vessels  had 
driven  so  near  the  English  shore,  that  immense  crowds  had 
assembled  to  be  spectators  of  the  action. 

15.  The  Frenchman,  having  stopped  his  leak,  returned  to 
the  combat,  and  poured  a  dreadful  fire  into  the  stern  of  the 

*  Hull,  the  bcxJy  of  a  ship,  exclusive  of  her  masts  yards,  and  rigging, 
t  Careen,  to  lie  on  one  side. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  89 

Isabella,  when  Captain  Hornby  was  wounded  by  a  ball  in  the 
temple,  and  bled  profusely.  The  sight  of  their  brave  comman- 
der, streaming  with  blood,  somewhat  disconcerted  his  gallant 
companions,  but  he  called  to  them  briskly  to  keep  their  courage 
and  stand  to  their  aiaiis,  for  his  wound  was  not  dangerous. 

16.  On  this  their  spirits  revived,  and  again  taking  post  in 
their  close  quarters,  they  sustained  the  shock  of  three  more 
tremendous  broadsides,  in  returning  which,  they  forced  the 
Brancas,  by  another  well  aimed  shot,  to  sheer  off.  The  huz- 
zas of  the  Isabella's  crew  were  renewed,  and  they  again  set  up 
their  shattered  ensign,  which  was  shot  through  and  through 
into  honorable  rags. 

17.  Andre,  who  was  not  deficient  in  bravery,  soon  returned 
to  the  fight,  and  having  disabled  the  Isabella,  by  five  terrible 
broadsides,  once  more  summoned  Hornby  to  strike  his  colors. 
Captain  Hornby  turned  to  his  gallant  comrades.  "  You  see 
yonder,  my  lads,"  pointing  to  the  shore,  "  the  witnesses  of  your 
valor." 

18.  It  was  unnecessary  to  say  more  ;  they  one  and  all  assur- 
ing him  of  their  resolution  to  stand  by  him  to  the  last ;  and 
finding  them  thus  invincibly  determined,  he  hurled  his  final 
defiance  at  the  enemy. 

19.  Andre  immediately  run  his  ship  upon  the  Isabella's  star- 
board, and  lashed  close  along  side ;  but  his  crew  murmured, 
and  refused  to  renew  the  dangerous  task  of  boarding,  so  that  he 
was  obliged  to  cut  the  lashings,  and  again  retreat. 

20.  Captain  Hornby  resolved  to  salute  the  privateer  with  a 
parting  gun  ;  and  his  last  shot,  fired  into  the  stern  of  the  Bran- 
cas, happening  to  reach  the  magazine,  it  blew  up  with  a  terri- 
ble explosion,  and  the  vessel  instantly  went  to  the  bottom. 
Out  of  seventy-five  men,  thirty-six  were  killed  or  wounded  in 
the  action,  and  all  the  rest,  together  with  the  wounded,  perished 
in  the  deep,  except  three,  \vho  were  picked  up  by  the  Dutch 
fishing  boats. 

21.  This  horrible  catastrophe  excited  the  compassion  of  the 
brave  Hornby  and  his  men ;  but  they  could  unfortunately 
render  no  assistance  to  their  ill-fated  enemies,  the  Isabella 
having  become  unmanageable,  and  her  boat  being  shattered  to 
pieces. 

22.  Captain  Hornby  afterwards  received  from  his  sovereign, 
a  large  gold  medal,  in  commemoration  of  his  heroic  conduct 
on  this  occasion  ;  conduct,  perhaps,  not  surpassed  by  any  thing 
in  the  annals  of  British  naval  prowess. 

8* 


90  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 


.  \ 


LESSON  XLIX. 

Damon  and  Pythias. 

1.  When  Damon  was  sentenced  by  Dionysius,  tyrant  of 
Sicily,  to  die  on  a  certain  day,  he  begged,permission  to  retire, 
previous  to  his  execution,  to  his  own  country,  that  he  might 
set  in  order  the  affairs  of  his  disconsolate  family. 

2.  This  the  tyrant  intended  peremptorily  to  refuse,  by  grant- 
ing it  on  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  impossible  condition  of 
his  procuring  some  one  to  remain  as  security  for  his  return 
under  equal  forfeiture  of  his  life. 

3.  Pythias,  who  was  the  friend  of  Damon,  heard  the  condi- 
tions, and  did  not  wait  for  an  application  on  the  part  of  the 
latter,  but  instantly  offered  to  remain  in  his  place  ;  which  being 
accepted,  Damon  was  immediately  set  at  liberty. 

4.  The  king  and  all  the  courtiers  were  astonished  at  this 
action ;  and,  therefore,  when  the  day  of  execution  drew  near, 
the  tyrant  had  the  curiosity  to  visit  Pythias  in  his  confinement. 

5.  After  some  conversation  on  the  subject  of  friendship,  in 
which  the  tyrant  delivered  it  as  his  opinion,  that  self-interest 
was  the  sole  mover  of  human  actions;  as  for  virtue,  friendship, 
benevolence,  patriotism,  and  the  like,  he  looked  upon  them  as 
terms  invented  by  the  wise  to  keej)  in  awe  and  impose  upon  the 
weak : — 

6.  "  My  lord,"  said  Pythias,  with  a  firm  voice  and  noble 
aspect,  "I  would  it  were  possible  that  I  might  suffer  a  thousand 
deaths,  rather  than  my  friend  should  fail  in  any  article  of  liis 
honor  !  He  cannot  fail  therein,  my  lord  ;  I  am  as  confident  of 
his  virtue  as  I  am  of  my  own  existence.  But  I  pray,  I  beseech 
the  gods,  to  preserve  the  life  and  the  integrity  of  Damon 
together. 

7.  "  Oppose  him,  ye  winds  !  prevent  the  eagerness  and  im- 
patience of  his  honorable  endeavors,  and  suffer  him  not  to  ar- 
rive, till,  by  my  death,  I  have  redeemed  a  life  a  thousand  times 
more  valuable  than  my  own ;  more  estimable  to  his  lovely 
wife,  to  his  innocent  children,  to  his  friends,  and  to  his  coun- 
try. O  leave  me  not  to  die  the  worst  of  deaths  in  that  of  my 
friend !" 

8.  Dionysius  was  awed  and  confounded  by  the  dignity  of 
these  sentiments,  and  by  the  manner  in  which  they  were  utter- 
ed :  he  felt  his  heart  struck  by  a  slight  sense  of  invading  truth  ; 
but  it  served  rather  to  perplex  than  to  undeceive  him. 

9.  The  fatal  day  arrived :  Pythias  was  brought  forth,  and 
walked  amidst  the  guards,  with  a  serious  but  satisfied  air,  to  the 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  91 

place  of  execution.  Dionyslus  was  already  there  ;  he  was 
exalted  on  a  moving  throne,  drawn  by  six  white  horses,  and  sat 
pensive  and  attentive  to  the  prisoner. 

10.  Pythias  came  ;  he  vaulted*  lightly  on  the  scaffold,  and 
beholding  for  a  time  the  apparatus  of  death,  he  turned  with  a 
placid  countenance,  and  thus  addressed  the  spectators  : — "  My 
prayers  are  heard ;  the  gods  are  propitious ;  you  know,  my 
friends,  that  the  winds  have  been  contrary  till  yesterday. — 
Damon  could  not  come  ;  he  could  not  conquer  impossibilities  ; 
he  will  be  here  to-morrow,  and  the  blood  which  is  shed  to-day 
shall  have  ransomed  the  life  of  my  friend. 

11.  "  O  !  could  I  erase  from  your  bosoms  every  doubt,  every 
mean  suspicion  of  the  honor  of  the  man  for  whom  I  am  about 
to  suffer,  I  should  go  to  my  death  with  as  much  joy  as  to  a 
marriage  feast.  Be  it  sufficient,  in  the  mean  time,  that  my 
friend  will  be  found  i^ble ;  that  his  truth  is  unimpeachable  ; 
that  he  will  speedily  prove  it ;  that  he  is  now  on  his  way 
hurrying  forward,accusing  himself,  the  adverse  elements,  and 
fortune  ;  but  I  haste  to  prevent  his  speed : — Executioner  ! 
perform  your  duty." 

12.  As  he  pronounced  the  last  word,  a  buzz  began  to  rise 
among  the  remotest  of  the  people  ;  a  distant  voice  was  heard  ; 
the  crowd  caught  the  words,  and  "  Stop,  stop  the  execution,'* 
was  repeated  by  the  whole  assembly. 

13.  A  man  came  at  full  speed ;  the  throng  gave  w^ay  to  his 
approach ;  he  was  mounted  on  a  courser  that  almost  flew  ;  in 
an  instant,  he  was  off  his  horse, — on  the  scaffold, — and  in  the 
arms  of  Pythias. 

14.  "  You  are  safe,"  he  cried,  "  my  friend,  my  dearest 
friend  !  the  gods  be  praised,  you  are  safe !  I  now  have  nothing 
but  death  to  suffer,  and  am  delivered  from  the  anguish  of  those 
reproaches  which  I  gave  myself  for  having  endangered  a  life 
so  much  dearer  than  my  own." 

15.  Pale,  cold,  and  half  speechless  in  the  arms  of  his  Damon, 
Pythias  replied  in  broken  accents — "  Fatal  haste  ! — Cruel  im- 
patience ! — What  envious  powers  have  wrought  impossibilities 
in  your  favor  1  But  I  will  not  be  wholly  disappointed.  Since 
I  cannot  die  to  save,  I  will  not  survive  you." 

16.  Dionysius  heard,  beheld,  and  considered  all  with  aston- 
ishment. His  heart  was  touched  :  he  wept,  and  leaving  his 
throne,  he  ascended  the  scaffold. 

♦  Vaulted,  leaped. 


92  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

17.  "  Live,  live,  ye  incomparable  pair  !"  he  cried  ;  "Ye  have 
borne  unquestionable  testimony  to  the  existence  of  virtue  ;  and 
that  virtue  equally  evinces  the  existence  of  a  God  to  reward  it. 
Live  happy ;  live  renowned ;  and,  O,  form  me  by  your  pre- 
cepts, as  ye  have  instructed  me  by  your  example,  to  be  worthy 
the  participation  of  so  sacred  a  friendship." 


LESSON  L. 

Test  of  Goodness, 

L  Real  goodness  consists  in  doing  good  to  our  enemies. — 
Of  this  truth  the  followmg  apologue*  may  serve  for  an  illustra- 
tion. A  certain  father  of  a  family,  advanced  in  years,  being 
desirous  of  settling  his  worldly  matters,  divided  his  property 
between  his  three  sons. 

2.  "  Nothing  now  remains,"  said  he  to  them,  "  but  a  dia- 
mond of  great  value  ;  this  I  have  determined  to  appropriate  to 
w^hichever  of  you  shall,  within  three  months,  perform  the  best 
action." 

3.  His  three  sons  accordingly  departed  different  ways,  and 
returned  by  the  limited  time.  On  presenting  themselves  before 
their  judge,  the  eldest  thus  began. 

4.  "  Father,"  said  he,  "  during  my  absence,  I  found  a  stran- 
ger so  circumstanced,  that  he  was  under  a  necessity  of  entrust- 
inor  me  with  the  whole  of  his  fortune.  He  had  no  written  se- 
curity  from  me,  nor  could  he  possibly  bring  any  proof,  any 
evidence  whatever  of  the  deposit.  Yet  I  faithfully  returned  to 
him  every  shilling.  Was  there  not  something  commendable 
in  this  action  ?" 

5.  "  Thou  hix^^t  done  what  was  incumbent  upon  thee  to  do, 
my  son,"  replied  the  old  man.  "  The  man  who  could  have 
acted  otherwise  were  unworthy  to  live  :  for  honesty  is  a  duty  ; 
thy  action  is  an  action  of  justice,  not  of  goodness." 

6.  On  this,  the  second  son  advanced.  "  In  the  course  of  my 
travels,"  said  he,  "  I  came  to  a  lake  in  which  I  beheld  a  child 
struggling  with  death  ;  I  plunged  into  it  and  saved  his  life  in 
the  presence  of  a  number  of  the  neighboring  villagers,  all  of 
whom,  can  attest  the  truth  of  what  I  assert." 

7.  "  It  was  well  done,  "interrupted  the  old  man  ;  "  you  have 
only  obeyed  the  dictates  of  humanity."  At  length  the  young- 
est of  the  three  came  forward. 

♦  Pronounced  ap-o-Iog,  a  moral  story  or  fable,  intended  to  convey  useful 
truths. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  93 

8.  "  I  happened,"  said  he,  "  to  meet  my  mortal  enemy,  who, 
having  bewildered  himself  m  the  dead  of  night,  had  impercep- 
tibly fallen  asleep  upon  the  brink  of  a  frightful  precipice.  The 
least  motion  would  infallibly  have  plunged  him  headlong  into 
the  a1)yss  ;  and  though  his  life  was  in  my  hands,  yet  with  every 
necessary  precaution,  I  awaked  him,  and  removed  him  from  his 
danger." 

9.  "  Ah,  my  son  !"  exclaimed  the  venerable  good  man  with 
transport,  while  he  pressed  him  to  his  heart ;  "  to  thee  belongs 
the  diamond  :  well  hast  thou  deserved  it." 


LESSON  LI. 

The  mysterious  Stranger. — Jane  Taylor. 

1.  In  a  remote  period  of  antiquity,  when  the  supernatural 
and  the  marvellous  obtained  a  readier  credence  than  now,  it  was 
fabled  that  a  stranger  of  extraordinary  appearance  was  observed 
j)assing  the  streets  of  one  of  the  magnificent  cities  of  the  east, 
remarking  with  an  eye  of  intelligent  curiosity  every  surrounding 
object. 

2.  Several  individuals  gathering  around  him,  questioned  him 
concerning  his  country  and  his  business;  but  -they  presently 
perceived  that  he  was  unacquainted  with  their  language,  and 
he  soon  discovered  himself  to  be  equally  ignorant  of  the  most 
common  usages  of  society.  At  the  same  time,  the  dignity  and 
intelligence  of  his  air  and  demeanor  forbade  the  idea  of  his 
being  either  a  barbarian  or  a  lunatic. 

3.  When  at  length  he  understood  by  their  signs,  that  they 
wished  to  be  informed  whence  he  came,  he  pointed  with  great 
significance  to  the  sky  ;  upon  which  the  crowd,  concluding  him 
to  be  one  of  their  deities,  were  proceeding  to  pay  him  divine 
honors  ;  but  he  no  sooner  comprehended  their  design,  than  he 
rejected  it  with  horror  ;  and,  bending  his  knees  and  raising  his 
hand  toward  heaven,  in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  gave  them  to 
understand  that  he  also  was  a  worshipper  of  the  powers  above. 

4.  After  a  time,  it  is  said,  the  mysterious  stranger  accepted 
the  hospitalities  of  one  of  the  nobles  of  the  city  ;  under  whose 
roof  he  applied  himself  with  great  diligence  to  the  acquirement 
of  the  language,  in  which  he  made  such  surprising  proficiency, 
that,  in  a  few  days,  he  was  able  to  hold  intelligent  intercourse 
with  those  around  him. 

5.  The  noble  host  now  resolved  to  take  an  early  opportunity 
of  satisfying  his  curiosity  respecting  the  country  and  quality  of 


94  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

his  guest ;  and,  upon  his  expressing  this  desire,  the  stranger 
assured  him  that  he  would  answer  his  enquiries  that  evening 
after  sun-set.  Accordingly,  as  night  approached,  he  led  him 
forth  upon  the  balconies  of  the  palace,  which  overlooked  the 
wealthy  and  populous  city. 

6.  Innumerable  lights  from  its  busy  streets  and  splendid 
palaces  were  now  reflected  in  the  dark  bosom  of  its  noble  river; 
where  stately  vessels,  laden  with  rich  merchandise  from  all  parts 
of  the  known  world,  lay  anchored  in  the  port.  This  was  a  city 
in  which  the  voice  of  the  harp  and  the  viol,  and  the  sound  of  the 
mill-stone,  were  continually  heard — and  craftsmen  of  all  kinds 
of  craft  were  there — and  the  light  of  a  candle  Avas  seen  in  every 
dwelling — and  the  voice  of  the  bridegroom  and  the  voice  of  the 
bride  were  heard  there. 

7.  The  stranger  mused  awhile  upon  the  glittering  scene  ; 
and  listened  to  the  confused  murmur  of  mingling  sounds.  Then 
suddenly  raising  his  eyes  to  the  starry  firmament,  he  fixed  them 
with  an  expressive  gaze  on  the  beautiful  evening  star  which  was 
just  sinking  behind  a  dark  grove  that  surrounded  one  of  the 
principal  temples  of  the  city.  "  Marvel  not,"  said  he  to  his 
host,  "  that  I  am  wont  to  gaze  with  fond  afiection  on  yon 
silvery  star. 

8.  "  That  was  my  home — yes,  I  was  lately  an  inhabitant  of 
that  tranquil  planet ;  from  whence  a  vain  curiosity  has  tempted 
me  to  wander.  Often  had  I  beheld,  with  wondering  admira- 
tion, this  brilliant  world  of  yours,  even  one  of  the  brightest 
gems  of  our  firmament — and  the  ardent  desire  I  had  long  felt 
to  know  something  of  its  condition,  was  at  length  unexpectedly 
gratified.  I  received  permission  and  power  from  above  to 
traverse  the  mighty  void,  and  to  direct  my  course  to  this  distant 
sphere. 

9.  "  To  that  permission,  however,  one  condition  was  annexed, 
to  which  my  eagerness  for  the  enterprise  induced  me  hastily  to 
consent — namely,  that  I  must  thenceforth  remain  an  inhabitant 
of  this  strange  earth,  and  undergo  all  the  vicissitudes  to  which 
its  natives  are  subject.  Tell  me,  therefore,  I  pray  you,  what 
is  the  lot  of  man — and  explain  to  me  more  fully  than  I  yet 
understand,  all  that  I  hear  and  see  around  me." 

10.  "  Truly,  sir,"  replied  the  astonished  noble,  "  although  I 
am  altogether  unacquainted  with  the  manners  and  customs, 
products  and  privileges  of  your  country,  yet,  methinks,  I  cannot 
but  congratulate  you  on  your  arrival  in  our  world  ;  especially 
since  it  has  been  your  good  fortune  to  alight  on  a  part  of  it 
affording  such  various  sources  of  enjoyment  as  this  our  opulent 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  95 

and  luxuriant  city.  And  be  assured  it  will  be  my  pride  and 
pleasure  to  introduce  you  to  all  that  is  most  worthy  the  atten- 
tion of  such  a  distinguished  foreigner." 

11.  Our  adventurer,  accordingly,  was  presently  initiated  into 
those  arts  of  luxury  and  pleasure  which  were  there  well  under- 
stood. He  was  introduced  by  his  obliging  host  to  their  public 
games  and  festivals — to  their  theatrical  diversions  and  convivial 
assemblies  ;  and  in  a  short  time  he  began  to  feel  some  relish  for 
amusements,  the  meaning  of  which,  at  first,  he  could  scarcely 
comprehend. 

12.  The  next  lesson  which  it  became  desirable  to  impart  to 
him,  was  the  necessity  of  acquiring  wealth,  as  the  only  means 
of  obtaining  pleasure.  A  fact  which  was  no  sooner  understood 
by  the  stranger,  than  he  gratefully  accepted  the  offer  of  his 
friendly  host  to  place  him  in  a  situation  in  which  he  might 
amass  riches. 

13.  To  this  object  he  began  to  apply  himself  with  diligence  ; 
and  was  becoming  in  some  measure  reconciled  to  the  manners 
and  customs  of  our  planet,  strangely  as  they  differed  from  those 
of  his  own,  when  an  incident  occurred  which  gave  an  entirely 
new  direction  to  his  energies.  It  was  but  a  few  weeks  after  his 
arrival  on  our  earth,  when,  walking  in  the  cool  of  the  day  with 
his  friend,  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  his  attention  was  arrested 
by  the  appearance  of  a  spacious  enclosure  near  which  they 
passed. — He  inquired  the  use  to  which  it  was  appropriated. 

14.  "  It  is,"  replied  the  nobleman,  "  a  place  of  public  inter- 
ment." "  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  the  stranger.  "It  is 
the  place,"  repeated  his  friend,  "  where  we  bury  our  dead." 
"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  replied  his  companion,  with  some  embarrass- 
ment. "  I  must  trouble  you  to  explain  yourself  yet  further." 
The  nobleman  repeated  the  information  in  still  plainer  terms. 
"  I  am  still  at  a  loss  to  compreliend  you  perfectly,"  said  the 
stranger,  turning  deadly  pale.  "  This  must  relate  to  something 
of  which  I  was  not  only  totally  ignorant  in  my  own  world,  but 
of  which  I  have,  as  yet,  had  no  intimation  in  yours. 

15.  "  I  pray  you,  therefore,  to  satisfy  my  curiosity  ;  for  if  I 
have  any  clue  to  your  meaning,  this,,  surely,  is  a  matter  of  more 
mighty  concernment  than  any  to  which  you  have  hitherto  direct- 
ed me."  "  My  good  friend,"  rephed  the  nobleman,  "you  must 
be  indeed  a  novice  among  us,  if  you  have  yet  to  learn  that  we 
must  all,  sooner  or  later,  submit  to  take  our  place  in  these  dismal 
abodes. 

16.  "  Nor  will  I  deny  that  it  is  one  of  the  least  desirable  of 
the  circumstances  which  appertain  to  our  condition ;  for  which 


96  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

reason  it  is  a  matter  rarely  referred  to  in  polished  society  ;  and 
this  accounts  for  your  being  hitherto  uninformed  on  the  subject. 
But  truly,  sir,  if  the  inhabitants  of  the  place  from  whence  you 
came  are  not  liable  to  any  similar  misfortune,  I  advise  you  to 
betake  yourself  back  again  with  all  speed  ;  for  be  assured  there 
is  no  escape  here — nor  could  I  guaranty  your  safety  even. for  a 
single  hour !" 

17.  "  Alas  !"  replied  the  adventurer,  "  I  must  submit  to  the 
conditions  of  my  enterprise,  of  which,  till  now,  I  little  under- 
stood the  import.  But  explain  to  me,  I  beseech  you,  something 
more  of  the  nature  and  consequence  of  this  wondrous  change, 
and  tell  me  at  what  period  it  commonly  happens  to  man." — 
While  he  thus  spoke,  his  voice  faltered,  and  his  whole  frame 
shook  violently ;  his  countenance  was  as  pale  as  death. 

18.  By  this  time  his  companion,  finding  the  discourse  becom- 
ing more  serious  than  was  agreeable,  declared  he  mustreferhim 
to  the  priests  for  further  information,  this  subject  being  very 
much  out  of  his  province.  "  How  !"  exclaimed  the  stranger, 
"  then  I  cannot  have  understood  you.  Do  the  priests  only  die? 
are  not  you  to  die  also  ?" 

19.  liis  friend,  evading  these  questions,  hastily  conducted 
his  importunate  companion  to  one  of  their  magnificent  temples, 
where  he  gladly  consigned  him  to  the  instructions  of  the  priest- 
hood. The  emotion  which  the  stranger  had  betrayed,  when 
he  received  the  first  idea  of  death,  was  yet  slight  in  comparison 
with  that  which  he  experienced  as  soon  as  he  gathered,  from  the 
discourses  of  the  priests,  some  notions  of  immortality,  and  of  the 
alternative  of  happiness  or  misery  in  a  future  state. 

20.  But  this  agony  of  mind  Avas  exchanged  for  transport, 
when  he  learned  that,  by  the  performance  of  certain  conditions 
before  death,  the  state  of  happiness  might  be  secured.  His 
eagerness  to  learn  the  nature  of  these  terms,  excited  the  surprise 
and  even  the  contempt  of  his  sacred  teachers.  They  advised 
him  to  remain  satisfied  for  the  present  with  the  instructions  he 
had  received,  and  defer  the  remainder  of  the  discussion  till 
to-morrow. 

21.  "  How  !"  exclaimed  the  novice,  "  say  ye  not  that  death 
may  come  at  any  hour  ?  may  it  not  come  this  hour  ?  and  what 
if  it  should  come  before  I  have  performed  these  conditions  ?  O ! 
withhold  not  the  excellent  knowledge  from  me  a  single  mo- 
ment!" The  priests,  suppressing  a  smile  at  this  simplicity,  then 
proceeded  to  explain  their  theology  to  their  attentive  auditor. 

22.  But  who  can  describe  the  ecstasy  of  his  happiness,  when 
he  was  given  to  understand  the  required  conditions  were,  gene- 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  97 

rally,  of  easy  and  pleasant  performance,  and  the  occasional 
difficulties,  which  might  attend  them,  would  entirely  cease  with 
the  short  term  of  his  earthly  existence.  "If,  then,  I  understand 
you  rightly,"  said  he  to  his  instructors,  "  this  event  which  you 
call  death,  and  which  seems  in  itself  strangely  terrible,  is  most 
desirable  and  blissful. 

23.  "  What  a  favor  is  this  which  is  granted  to  me,  in  being 
sent  to  inhabit  a  planet  in  which  I  can  die !"  The  priests  again 
exchanged  smiles  with  each  other;  but  their  ridicule  was  wholly 
lost  on  the  enraptured  stranger.  When  the  first  transports  of 
his  emotion  had  subsided,  he  began  to  reflect  with  more  un- 
easiness on  the  time  he  had  already  lost  since  his  arrival. 

24.  "  Alas  !  what  have  I  been  doing?"  exclaimed  he.  "  This 
gold  which  I  have  been  collecting,  tell  me,  reverend  priests, 
will  it  avail  me  any  thing  when  the  thirty  or  forty  years  are  ex- 
pired, which  you  say,  I  may  possibly  sojourn  in  your  planet  ?" 
'*  Nay,"  replied  the  priests,  "  but  verily  you  will  find  it  of  ex- 
cellent use  so  long  as  you  remain  in  it." 

25.  "A  very  little  of  it  shall  suffice  me,"  replied  he;  "for 
consider  how  soon  this  period  will  be  past.  What  avails  it 
w  hat  my  condition  may  be  for  so  short  a  season  ?  I  will  betake 
myself  from  this  hour,  to  the  grand  concerns  of  which  you 
have  so  charitably  informed  me." 

26.  Accordingly,  from  that  period,  continues  the  legend,  the 
stranger  devoted  himself  to  the  performance  of  those  conditions 
on  which,  he  was  told,  his  future  welfare  depended — but,  in  so 
doin^,  he  had  an  opposition  to  encounter  wholly  unexpected, 
and  for  which  he  was  even  at  a  loss  to  account. 

27.  By  thus  devoting  his  chief  attention  to  his  chief  interests, 
he  excited  the  surprise,  the  contempt,  and  even  the  enmity  of 
most  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  ;  and  they  rarely  mentioned 
him  but  with  a  term  of  reproach,  which  has  been  variously  ren- 
dered in  all  the  modern  languages.  Nothing  could  equal  the 
stranger's  surprise  at  this  circumstance ;  as  well  as  that  of  his 
fellow-citizens  appearing,  generally,  so  extremely  indifferent 
as  they  did,  to  their  own  interests. 

28.  That  they  should  have  so  little  prudence  and  forethought 
as  to  provide  only  for  their  necessities  and  pleasures  for  that 
short  part  of  their  existence  in  which  they  were  to  remain  on 
this  planet,  he  could  consider  as  the  effect  of  disordered  intel- 
lect :  so  that  he  even  returned  their  incivilities  to  himself  with 
affectionate  expostulation,  accompanied  by  lively  emotions  of 
compassion  and  amazement. 

9 


98  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

29.  If  ever  he  was  tempted  for  a  moment  to  violate  any  of 
the  conditions  of  his  future  happiness,  he  bewailed  his  own 
madness  with  agonizing  emotions ;  and  to  all  the  invitations  he 
received  from  others  to  do  any  thing  inconsistent  ^vith  his  real 
interests,  he  had  but  one  answer — "  Oh,"  he  would  say,  "  I 
am  to  die — I  am  to  die." 


LESSON  LII. 

Earthquake  in  Calabria. — Goldsmith. 

1.  In  1638,  the  celebrated  father  Kircher,  and  four  others, 
were  on  a  journey  to  visit  Mount  ^Etna,  and  the  wonders  in 
Calabria,  the  southern  extremities  of  Italy.  Having  hired  a 
boat,  they  left  Messina  in  Sicily,  for  Euphemia  a  city  in  Ca- 
labria. Having  crossed  the  strait,  they  landed  at  the  pro- 
montory of  Pelores,  where  they  were  detained,  for  some  time, 
by  bad  weather. 

2.  At  length,  wearied  by  delay,  they  resolved  to  prosecute 
their  voyage.  But  scarcely  had  they  quitted  the  shore,  when 
all  nature  seemed  to  be  in  motion,  and  although  the  air  was 
calm  and  serene,  the  sea  became  violently  agitated,  covered 
■with  bubbles — the  gulf  of  Charybdis*  seemed  whirled  round  in 
an  unusual  manner, — Mount  jl^tna  sent  forth  vas-t  volumes  of 
smoke — and  Strombolif  belched  forth  flames,  with  a  noise  like 
peals  of  thunder. 

3.  Alarmed  for  their  safety,  they  rowed  with  all  possible 
haste  for  the  shore; — but  no  sooner  had  they  landed,  than  their 
ears  were  stunned  with  a  horrid  sound,  resembling  that  of  an 
infinite  number  of  carriages  driven  fiercely  forward, — wheels 
rattling,  and  thongs^:  crackling.  This  was  followed  by  a  most 
dreadful  earthquake,  which  shook  the  place  so  violently,  that 
they  were  thrown  prostrate  on  the  ground.  This  paroxysm 
having  ceased,  they  started  for  Euphemia,  which  lay  within 
sight, — but  looking  towards  the  city,  they  perceived  a  frightful 
dark  cloud  resting  upon  the  place.  Having  waited  until  the 
cloud  had  passed  away, — wonderful  to  tell, — no  city  was  there; 
— it  had  totally  sunk ; — and  in  its  place  a  dismal  and  putrid 
lake  was  seen.  All  was  a  melancholy  solitude, — a  scene  of 
hideous  desolation. 

*  Charybdis,  a  dangerous  whirlpool  on  the  coast  of  Sicily, 
•f  Stromboli,  an  island  in  the  Tuscan  sea,  belonging  to  Sicily.     On  it  is  a 
volcano. 

X  Thong,  a  strap  of  leather,  used  as  a  whip. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  99 

4.  Proceeding  pensively  along,  in  search  of  some  human 
being  for  information,  they  perceived  a  boy  sitting  by  the  shore, 
who  appeared  stupified  with  terror.  They  asked  him  concern- 
ing the  fate  of  the  city ; — but  he  gave  them  no  answer.  They 
intreated, — begged  him  to  tell  them  ; — he  only  gazed  on  the 
dismal  lake ; — they  offered  him  food, — but  he  heeded  it  not ; — 
they  tried  to  rouse  him  from  his  insensibility, — but  pointing  to 
the  place  of  the  city,  with  a  shriek  he  fled,  and  was  seen  no  more. 

The  Wild  Boy. — Charles  W.  Thompson. 

1.  He  sat  upon  the  wave  washed  shore, 
With  madness  in  his  eye ; 

The  surges'  dash — the  breakers'  roar — 

Passed  unregarded  by — 
He  noticed  not  the  billows'  roll, 

He  heeded  not  their  strife — 
For  terror  had  usurped  his  soul, 

And  stopped  the  streams  of  life. 

2.  They  spoke  him  kindly — but  he  gazed, 
And  offered  no  reply — 

They  gave  him  food — he  look'd  amazed. 

And  threw  the  morsel  by. 
He  was  as  one  o'er  whom  a  spell 

Of  darkness  hath  been  cast ; 
His  spirit  seemed  alone  to  dwell 

With  dangers  that  were  past. 

3.  The  city  of  his  home  and  heart, 
So  grand — so  gaily  bright, 

Now  touch'd  by  Fate's  unerring  dart. 

Had  vanish'd  from  his  sight. 
The  earthquake's  paralizing  shake 

Had  rent  it  from  its  hold — 
And  nothing  but  a  putrid  lake 

Its  tale  of  terror  told. 

4.  His  kindred  there,  a  numerous  band. 
Had  watch'd  his  youthful  bloom, 

In  the  broad  ruin  of  the  land 

All — all  had  met  their  doom  ! 
But  the  last  night,  a  mother's  voice 

Breath'd  over  him  in  prayer — 
She  perished — he  was  left  no  choice 

But  mute  and  blank  despair. 


100  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

5.  He  sat  alone,  of  all  the  crowd 

That  lately  throng'd  around, — 
The  ocean  winds  were  piping  loud, 

He  did  not  heed  their  sound, 
They  ask'd  him  of  that  city's  fate, 

But  reason's  reign  was  o'er — 
He  pointed  to  her  ruin'd  state. 

Then  fled — and  spoke  no  more. 


LESSON  LIIL 

The  Starling. — SxERNEr 

\.  Beshrew  the  sombre*  pencil !  said  I  vauntingly — for  I 
envy  not  its  powers,  which  paints  the  evils  of  life  with  so  hard 
and  deadly  a  coloring.  TJie  mind  sits  terrified  at  the  objects 
she  has  magnified  herself  and  blackened  :  reduce  them  to  their 
proper  size  and  hue,  she  overlooks  them. 

2.  'Tis  true,  said  I»  correcting  the  proposition — the  Bastilef 
is  not  an  evil  to  be  despised — but  strip  it  of  its  towers — fill  up 
the  fosse| — unbarricade  the  doors — call  it  simply  a  confinement, 
and  suppose  'tis  some  tyrant  of  a  distemper — and  not  of  a  man 
— which  holds  you  in  it — the  evil  vanishes,  and  you  bear  the 
other  half  without  complaint. 

3.  I  was  interrupted  in  the  hey-day  of  this  soliloquy,  |[  ^^dth  a 
voice  which  I  took  to  be  of  a  child  which  complained,  "  it 
could  not  get  out." — I  looked  up  and  down  the  passage,  and 
seeing  neither  man,  woman,  nor  child,  I  went  out  without  fur- 
ther attention. 

4.  In  my  return  back  through  the  passage,  I  heard  the  same 
words  repeated  twice  over;  and  looking  up,  I  saw  it  was  a 
Starling  hung  in  a  little  cage — "  I  can't  get  out — I  can't  get 
out,"  said  the  Starling. 

5.  I  stood  looking  at  the  bird  ;  and  to  every  person  who 
came  through  the  passage,  it  ran  fluttering  to  the  side  towards 
which  they  approached  it,  with  the  same  lamentations  of  its 
captivity — "  I  can't  get  out,"  said  the  Starling. 

6.  God  help  thee !  said  I,  but  I  will  let  thee  out,  cost  what 
it  will ;  so  I  turned  about  the  cage  to  get  at  the  door ;  it  was 

*  Pronounced  som'-ber,  gloomy,  dull.  sad. 
*   t  Pronounced  Bas-teel,   an  old  castle  in  Paris,  built  between  1369  and 
1383,  and  used  as  a  state  prison.     It  was  demolished  in  1789. 
,  t  Pronounced  foss,  a  ditch. 

(I  So-Ul'-o-quy,  a  speech  made  by  one  alone  to  himself. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOK.  101 

twisted  and  double  twisted  so  fast  with  wire,  there  was  no  get- 
ting it  open  without  pulhng  the  cage  to  pieces — I  took  both 
hands  to  it. 

7.  The  bird  flew  to  the  place  where  I  was  attempting  his 
deliverance,  and  thrusting  his  head  through  the  trellis,  pressed 
his  breast  against  it  as  if  impatient — I  fear,  poor  creature  ! 
said  I,  I  cannot  set  thee  at  liberty — "  No,"  said  the  Starling. — 
"  I  can't  get  out,  I  can't  get  out,"  said  the  Starling. 

8.  I  never  had  my  affections  more  tenderly  awakened  ;  nor 
do  I  remember  an  incident  in  my  life,  where  the  dissipated 
spirits,  to  which  my  reason  had  been  a  bubble,  were  so  sudden- 
ly called  home. 

9.  Mechanical  as  the  notes  were,  yet  so  true  in  tune  to 
nature  were  they  chanted,  that  in  one  moment  they  overthrew 
all  my  systematic  reasonings  upon  the  Bastile ;  and  I  heavily 
walked  up  stairs,  unsaying  every  word  I  had  said  in  going  down 
them. 

10.  Disguise  thyself  as  thou  wilt,  still,  slavery  ! — still  thou 
art  a  bitter  draught !  and  though  thousands  in  all  ages  have 
been  made  to  drink  of  thee,  thou  art  no  less  bitter  on  that 
account. 

11.  'Tis  thou,  liberty — thrice  sweet  and  gracious  goddess — 
whom  all  in  public  or  in  private  worship,  whose  taste  is  grate- 
ful, and  ever  will  be  so,  till  nature  herself  shall  change — no  tint 
of  words  can  spot  thy  snowy  mantle,  or  chymic  power  turn  thy 
sceptre  into  iron — with  thee  to  smile  upon  him  as  he  eats  his 
crust,  the  swain  is  happier  than  his  monarch,  from  whose  court 
thou  art  exiled. 

12.  Gracious  Heaven  !  Grant  me  but  health,  thou  great 
Bestower  of  it,  and  give  me  but  this  fair  goddess  as  my  com- 
panion— and  shower  down  thy  mitres,*  if  it  seems  good  unto 
thy  divine  Providence,  upon  those  heads  which  are  aching  for 
them. 

13.  The  bird  in  his  cage  pursited  me  into  my  room  ;  I  sat 
down  close  by  my  table,  and  leaning  my  head  upon  my  hand, 
I  began  to  figure  to  myself  the  miseries  of  confinement ;  I  was 
in  a  right  frame  for  it,  and  so  I  gave  fi]Jl  scope  to  my  imagina- 
tion. 

14.  I  was  going  to  begin  with  the  millions  of  my  fellow  crea- 
tures born  to  no  inheritance  but  slavery ;  but  finding,  however 
affecting  the  picture  was,  that  I  could  not  bring  it  near  me,  and 

*  Mitre,  a  kind  of  crown,  or  omaiQent,  worn  on  the  head  by  bishops  oa 
eolema  occaaions. 

9* 


102  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

that  the  multitude  of  sad  groups  in  it  did  but  distract  me — I 
took  a  single  captive,  and  having  first  shut  him  up  in  his  dun- 
geon, I  then  looked  through  the  twilight  of  his  grated  door  to 
take  his  picture. 

15.  I  beheld  his  body  half  wasted  away  with  long  expecta- 
tion and  confinement,  and  felt  what  kind  of  sickness  of  the 
heart  it  is  which  arises  from  hope  deferred.  Upon  looking 
nearer,  I  saw  him  pale  and  feverish  :  in  thirty  years  the  western 
breeze  had  not  once  fanned  his  blood — he  had  seen  no  sun,  no 
moon,  in  all  that  time — nor  had  the  voice  of  friend  or  kinsman 

breathed  through  his  lattice — his  children but  here  my  heart 

began  to  bleed — and  I  was  forced  to  go  on  with  another  part  of 
the  portrait. 

16.  He  was  sitting  upon  the  ground  upon  a  little  straw,  in 
the  furthest  corner  of  his  dungeon,  which  was  alternately  his 
chair  and  bed  ;  a  little  calender  of  small  sticks  was  laid  at  the 
head,  notched  all  over  with  the  dismal  days  and  nights  he  had 
passed  there — he  had  one  of  these  little  sticks  in  his  hand,  and 
with  a  rusty  nail  he  was  etching  another  day  of  misery  to  add 
to  the  heap. 

17.  As  1  darkened  the  little  light  he  had,  he  lifted  up  a  hope- 
less eye  towards  the  door,  then  cast  it  down — shook  his  head, 
and  went  on  with  his  work  of  affliction.  I  heard  his  chains 
upon  his  legs,  as  he  turned  his  body  to  lay  his  little  stick  upon 
the  bundle — He  gave  a  deep  sigh — I  saw  the  iron  enter  into 
his  soul — I  burst  into  tears — I  could  not  sustain  the  picture  of 
confinement  which  my  fancy  had  drawn. 


LESSON  LIV. 

Alcander  and  Septimius. — Goldsmith. 

1.  Alcander  and  Septimius  were  two  Athenian  students, 
whose  tastes  for  the  arts  and  sciences  became  the  foundation 
of  their  future  friendship,  and  they  were  scarcely  ever  seen 
apart.  Although  Alcander's  breast  was  animated  by  that  ten- 
der sentiment,  a  still  more  lively  one  found  entrance,  and  the 
fair  Hypatia  became  the  object  of  his  love  :  He  declared  his 
passion,  and  was  accepted. 

2.  Septimius  happened  to  have  left  the  city,  wlien  his  friend 
first  saw  the  blooming  fair  one,  and  did  not  return  mitil  the  day 
fixed  upon  for  his  marriage.  The  moment  that  introduced  him 
to  the  view  of  such  perfection,  was  fatal  to  his  peace ;  and  the 
struggle  between  love  and  friendship  became  too  violent  for  his 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  103 

resolution.  A  sudden  and  dangerous  fever  attacked  him  ;  and 
the  unsuspicious  Alcander  introduced  the  object  of  his  affection 
to  assist  him  in  his  unwearied  care  of  his  friend. 

3.  The  moment  the  physicians  beheld  Hypatia  enter,  they 
were  no  longer  at  a  loss  to  account  for  their  patient's  illness ; 
and  calling  Alcander  aside,  they  informed  him  of  the  nature  of 
it,  and  also  expressed  their  fears  that  Septimius'  recovery  was 
impossible  !  Tortured  between  the  dread  of  losing  the  friend  of 
his  heart,  and  agonized  at  the  idea  of  relinquishing  the  object 
of  his  affection,  his  anguish  for  some  time  deprived  him  of  ut- 
terance ;  but  recovering  that  fortitude  which  had  ever  marked 
his  conduct,  he  flew  to  the  bed-side  of  his  apparently  dying 
friend,  and  promised  to  renounce  his  claim  to  Hypatia,  if  she 
consented  to  a  union  with  Septimius. 

4.  Whether  Hypatia  had  not  been  strongly  attached  to  the 
amiable  Alcander,  or  whether  compassion  urged  her  to  accept 
the  hand  of  his  friend,  is  uncertain  ;  but  they  were  united,  quit- 
ted Athens,  and  went  directly  to  Septimius'  house  at  Rome. 
Hypatia's  friends,  imagining  Alcander  had  relinquished  his 
betrothed  bride  for  the  sake  of  a  rich  reward,  commenced  an 
action  against  him  for  a  breach  of  promise ;  and  the  judges, 
biassed  by  the  representations  of  his  enemies,  ordered  that  he 
should  pay  a  heavier  fine  than  his  whole  property  amount- 
ed to. 

5.  The  wretched  Alcander  was  now  reduced  to  the  most 
melancholy  situation;  his  friend  absent,  the  object  of  his  love 
lost,  and  his  own  character  stigmatized  with  baseness !  Being 
absolutely  unable  to  pay  the  demand,  his  person  became  the 
property  of  his  oppressors,  and  he  was  carried  into  the  market 
place  and  sold  as  a  common  slave.  A  Thracian  merchant 
became  his  purchaser,  and  for  several  years  he  endured  a  life 
of  torment.  At  length  Uberty  presented  itself  to  his  view,  and 
the  opportunity  of  flight  was  not  to  be  rejected.  Alcander 
ardently  embraced  it,  and  arrived  at  Rome  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening. 

6.  Friendless,  hopeless,  and  forlorn,  the  generous  Alcander 
had  no  place  of  shelter,  and  necessity  compelled  him  to  seek  a 
lodging  in  a  gloomy  cavern.  Two  robbers,  who  had  long  been 
suspected  to  frequent  that  spot,  arrived  there  soon  after  mid- 
night, and  disputing  about  their  booty,  fortunately  did  not  per- 
ceive his  presence.  One  of  them  at  length  was  so  exasperat- 
ed against  his  companion,  that  drawing  a  dagger  from  his  side, 
he  plunged  it  into  his  heart,  and  left  him,  weltering  in  his  blood 
at  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 


1(H  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

7.  Alcander's  miseries  had  been  so  accumulated,  and  his  dis- 
tresses so  undeserved,  that  his  mind  at  last  was  worn  down  by 
his  afflictions,  and  he  became  indifferent  to  every  thing  around 
him.  In  this  situation  he  was  discovered,  and  dragged  to  a 
court  of  justice,  as  the  murderer  of  the  man  Avhose  body  had 
been  found  in  the  cave.  Weary  of  existence,  he  did  not  deny 
the  charge  ;  and  sentence  was  going  to  be  pronounced  against 
him,  when  the  murderer,  smitten  with  a  pang  of  conscience, 
entered  the  court,  and  avowed  the  fact ! 

8.  Astonishment  seized  every  mind,  but  particularly  that  of 
the  judge  who  was  going  to  comdemn  him,  who,  examining  the 
countenance  of  a  man  capable  of  such  singular  conduct,  discov- 
ered the  features  of  his  beloved  friend,  Alcander  !  Rising  from 
the  throne  of  justice,  and  flying  to  the  bar  of  guilt,  he  caught 
his  suffering  Alcander  in  his  arms,  and,  after  shedding  over 
him  tears  of  joy  and  compassion,  presented  him  to  the  Senators 
as  a  man  whose  disinterested  conduct  had  been  the  means  of 
preserving  his  own  existence. 


LESSON  LV. 

Ingratitude — Story  of  Inkle  and  Yarico. 

1.  Amidst  the  various  vices  to  which  human  nature  is  pronc< 
none  more  strikingly  evince  its  debasement  than  ingratitude 
For  other  vices,  and  other  failings,  reason  may  be  able  to  assign 
a  cause  ;  but  for  that  she  must  search  in  vain.  That  kindness 
should  ever  be  returned  with  cruelty,  or  affection  be  treated 
with  neglect,  is  humanity'^ s  shame,  and  man''s  disgrace. 

2.  Mr.  Thomas  Inkle,  a  young  merchant  of  London,  was  the 
third  son  of  a  wealthy  citizen,  who  had  carefully  instilled  into 
his  mind  a  desire  of  acquiring  wealth ;  and  this  propensity, 
which  he  had  imbibed  from  precept,  and  felt  from  nature,  was 
the  grand  inducement  for  him  to  try  his  fortune  in  the  West 
Indies.  Inkle's  person  was  absolutely  the  reverse  of  his  mind : 
the  former  was  manly  and  noble ;  but  the  latter  mean  and 
contracted. 

3.  During  the  voyage,  the  Achilles,  the  vessel  in  which  he 
embarked,  put  into  a  creek  to  avoid  the  fury  of  a  storm  ;  and 
young  Inkle,  with  several  of  the  party,  went  on  shore,  to  take 
a  view  of  a  scene  so  entirely  new.  They  had  not  walked  far 
up  the  country  before  they  were  observed  by  a  party  of  Indians, 
and  fear  and  apprehension  lent  winga  to  their  flight.     Inkle 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  105 

outran  his  companions,  and  breathless  with  terror,  sought  secu- 
rity in  the  thicket  of  a  forest. 

4.  He  had  not  been  there  long-,  when  he  was  surprised  by 
the  appearance  of  a  young  female,  whose  benignant  counte- 
nance seemed  instantly  to  compassionate  his  forlorn  situation. 
Tlie  name  of  the  female  w^as  Yarico.  Gentleness  and  sweet- 
ness were  displayed  in  every  feature  ;  and  when  Inkle,  by  signs, 
acquainted  her  w4th  his  condition,  she  evidently  proved  that 
sympathy  was  confined  to  no  particular  clime,  and  that  human- 
ity depends  not  upon  the  color  of  the  skin. 

5.  The  generous  Indian  was  a  woman  of  high  birth ;  and 
knowing  that  the  tenderness  she  felt  for  the  unfortunate  stran- 
ger would  be  displeasing  to  her  parents,  she  knew  the  necessi- 
ty of  disguising  it.  She  conducted  Inkle  to  a  remote  cave,  sup>- 
plied  his  wants,  and  daily  administered  to  his  comforts.  Her 
affection  in  time  became  so  strong,  that  she  scarcely  could  ex- 
ist but  in  his  presence. 

6.  Fearful  that  he  w^ould  grow  weary  of  his  confinement,  she 
used  to  w^atch  the  opportunities  of  her  parents'  absence,  and 
then  conduct  him  into  the  beauteous  groves,  with  which  that 
country  abounds  ;  then  persuade  him  to  lie  down  and  slumber, 
and  anxiously  watch  by  him  for  fear  he  should  be  disturbed  ! 
His  little  dwelling  w^as  adorned  with  all  the  elegance  that  na- 
tive art  could  suggest,  and  unsuspecting  innocence  employ,  to 
make  it  appear  pleasing  to  her  lover's  eyes. 

7.  At  length  Yarico  had  the  happiness  of  finding  Inkle  un- 
derstand her  language,  and  of  hearing  him  express  the  strength 
of  his  gratitude,  and  power  of  his  love.  Inkle  was  constantly 
representing  the  joys  that  would  await  them,  if  they  could  once 
return  to  England,  and  painted  his  passion  in  such  glowing 
colors,  that  the  unsuspecting  Yarico  could  not  doubt  its  sinceri- 
ty, and  at  length  promised  not  only  to  become  the  partner  of 
his  flight,  but  daily  watch  the  arrival  of  some  vessel  to  promote  it. 

8.  The  wished  for  object  soon  appeared ;  the  unsuspicious 
Yarico  left  the  abode  of  her  doating  parents,  and,  forgetful  of 
duly,  thought  only  of  her  afifection.  The  ship  in  which  they 
had' embarked  was  bound  for  Barbadoes,*  and  all  Inkle's  ideas 
of  acquiring  wealth  returned  with  double  force.  Love,  which 
had  been  a  transitory  passion,  and  which  had  its  foundation  in 
interest,  now  yielded  to  a  superior  claim.  His  freedom  once 
obtained  the  means  w^ere  totally  forgotten,  and  the  unfortu- 
nate Yarico  was  considered  as  a  tax  upon  his  bounty. 

♦  Barbadoes,  the  moet  eastern  of  the  West  India  Islands. 


106  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

9.  As  soon  as  the  vessel  arrived  at  Barbadoes,  the  merchants 
crowded  around  it  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  slaves.  The 
despicable  Inkle  was  animated  at  the  sight,  and  resolving  to 
relieve  himself  of  what  he  considered  a  burden,  oftered  the 
beauteous  Yarico,  his  amiable  deliverer,  to  the  highest  bidder  ! 
It  was  in  vain  that  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees  before  him, 
or  pleaded  her  tenderness  and  affection ;  the  heart  that  could 
be  dead  to  gratitude  was  lost  to  love ;  and  the  unfortunate 
Yarico  was  doomed  to  a  life  of  slavery!! 


LESSON  LVL 

The  Battle  of  Blenheim* — Southey. 

1.  It  was  a  summer  evening  ; 

Old  Kaspar's  work  was  done  ; 
And  he,  before  his  cottage  door, 

Was  sitting  in  the  sun  ; 
And  by  him  sported  on  the  green, 
His  little  grandchild,  Wilhemine. 

2.  She  saw  her  brother  Peterkin 

Roll  something  large  and  round, 
That  he  besides  the  rivulet. 

In  playing  there  had  found  ; 
He  came  to  ask  what  he  had  found. 
That  was  so  large,  and  smooth,  and  round. 

3.  Old  Kaspar  took  it  from  the  boy, 

Who  stood  expectant  by  ; 
And  then  the  old  man  shook  his  head. 

And  with  a  natural  sigh, 
'Tis  some  poor  fellow's  skull,  said  he. 
Who  fell  in  the  great  victory. 

4. 1  find  them  in  the  garden,  for 

There's  many  here  about. 
And  often  when  I  go  to  plough, 

The  ploughshare  turns  them  out ; 
For  many  thousand  men,  said  he. 
Were  slain  in  this  great  victory. 

*  Blenheim,  a  town  in  the  north-western  part  of  Austria,  on  the  river  Dan- 
ube. It  is  famous  for  the  great  victory  obtained  in  its  vicinity,  on  the  13th 
of  August,  1704,  by  the  EngUsh  and  Austrians,  under  the  duke  of  Marlbo- 
rough and  prince  Eugene,  over  the  French  and  Bavarians,  commanded  by 
marshals  Tallard,  Marsin,  and  the  elector  of  Bavaria.  Tlie  loss  of  the 
French  and  Bavarians  exceeded  30,000 ;  that  of  the  allies  was  12,000. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  107 

5.  Now  tell  us  what  'twas  all  about, 

Young  Peterkin  he  cries  ; 
And  little  Wilhemine  looks  up, 

With  wonder  waiting  eyes  ; 
Now  tell  us  all  about  the  war, 
And  what  they  killed  each  other  for. 

6.  It  was  the  English,  Kaspar  cried, 

That  put  the  French  to  rout ; 
But  what  they  kill'd  each  other  for, 

I  could  not  well  make  out; 
But  every  body  said,  quoth  he, 
That  'twas  a  famous  victory ; 

7.  My  father  liv'd  at  Blenheim  then. 

Yon  little  stream  hard  by  ; 
They  burnt  his  dwelling  to  the  ground. 

And  he  was  forc'd  to  fly  : 
So  with  his  wife  and  child  he  fled, 
Nor  had  he  where  to  rest  his  head. 

8.  With  fire  and  sword  the  country  round 

Was  wasted  far  and  wide, 
And  many  a  chiding  mother  then, 

And  new-born  infant  died; 
But  things  like  this,  you  know,  must  be 
At  every  famous  victory. 

9.  Great  praise  the  noble  General  won. 

And  our  good  friend  Eugene  ;* — 
Why,  'twas  a  very  wicked  thing. 

Said  little  Wilhemine ; 
Nay,  nay,  my  little  girl,  quoth  he. 
It  was  a  famous  victory. 

10.  And  every  body  praised  the  Dukef 

Who  such  a  fight  did  win ; 
But  what  good  came  of  it  at  last  ? 

Said  little  Peterkin ; 
Why — that — I  cannot  tell,  said  he. 
But  'twas  a  famous  victory. 

♦  Francis  Eugene,  Prince  of  Savoy,  born  in  1663.  Finding  himself 
slighted  by  Louis  XIV.  in  France,  his  native  country,  he  retired  to  Germa- 
ny, and  spent  his  life  in  the  service  of  the  Austrians.  His  victories  over 
the  Turks,  and  afterwards  over  the  French,  have  rendered  his  name  im- 
mortal.    He  died  at  Vienna,  1736. 

♦  Duke  of  Marlborough,  an  Englishman. 


108  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  LVIL 

The  Dog  and  the  Fox. — Gay. 

1.  A  Shepherd's  dog,  unskilled  in  sports, 
Picked  up  acquaintance  of  all  sorts. 
Amongst  the  rest  a  fox  he  knew  ; 

By  frequent  chat  their  friendship  grew. 

2.  Says  Renard,  "  'Tis  a  cruel  case, 
That  man  should  stigmatize  our  race. 
No  doubt,  among  us,  rogues  you  find, 
As  among  dogs  and  human  kind  ; 
And  yet,  (unknown  to  me  and  you,) 
There  may  be  honest  men  and  true. 

3.  "  Thus  slander  tries,  whate'er  it  can, 
To  put  us  on  the  foot  with  man. 

Let  my  own  actions  recommend  ; 
No  prejudice  can  blind  a  friend ; 
You  know  me  free  from  all  disguise ; 
My  honor  as  my  life  I  prize." 

4.  By  talk  like  this,  from  all  mistrust 
The  dog  was  cured,  and  thought  him  just 
As  on  a  time  the  fox  held  forth 

On  conscience,  honesty,  and  worth, 
Sudden  he  stopped ;  he  cocked  his  ear, 
Low  dropped  his  brushy  tail  with  fear. 
"  Bless  us  !  the  hunters  are  abroad  : 
What's  all  that  clatter  on  the  road  ?" 

5.  "  Hold,"  says  the  dog ;  "  we're  safe  from  harm ; 
'Twas  nothing  but  a  false  alarm. 

At  yonder  town,  'tis  market  day  ; 
Some  farmer's  wife  is  on  the  way  : 
'Tis  so,  (I  know  her  pie-bald  mare,) 
Dame  Dobbins,  with  her  poultry-ware.^^ 

6.  Renard  grew  huflf'.     Says  he,  "  This  sneer, 
From  you,  I  little  thought  to  hear. 

Your  meaning  in  your  looks  I  see  ; 
Pray,  what's  dame  Dobbins,  friend,  to  me  ? 
Did  I  e'er  make  her  poultry  thinner  ? 
Prove  that  I  owe  the  dame  a  dinner." 

7.  "  Friend,"  quoth  the  cur,  "  I  meant  no  harm, 
Then  why  so  captious  ?  why  so  warm  ? 

My  words,  in  common  acceptation. 
Could  never  give  this  provocation  ; 
No  lamb  (for  aught  I  ever  knew) 
May  be  more  innocent  than  you." 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  109 

8.  At  this,  galled  Renard  winced,  and  swore 
Such  language  ne'er  was  given  before. 

"  What's  lamh  to  me  ? — the  saucy  hint ; 
Show  me,  base  knave,  which  way  you  spuint. 
If  t'other  night,  your  master  lost 
Three  lambs — am  I  to  pay  the  cost  ? 
Your  Tile  reflections  would  imply 
That  I'm  the  thief.     You  dog,  you  lie." 

9.  "  Thou  knave,  thou  fool,"  the  dog  replied, 
"  Thy  name  is  just,  take  either  side  ; 

Thy  guilt  these  applications  speak  ; 
Sirrah,  'tis  conscience  makes  you  squeak." 
So  saying,  on  the  fox  he  flies  ; — 
The  self-con^dcted  felon  dies. 


LESSON  LVIII. 

Tke  Hare  and  the  Tortoise. — Lloyd. 

1.  In  days  of  yore,*  when  time  was  young, 
When  birds  conversed  as  well  as  simg, 
When  use  of  speech  was  not  confined 
Merely  to  brutes  of  human  kind, 

A  forward  hare  of  swiftness  vain, 
The  genius  of  the  neighboring  plain, 
Would  oft  deride  the  drudging  crowd, 
For  geniuses  are  ever  proud : 
He'd  boast,  his  flight  'twere  vain  to  follow ; 
For  dog,  and  horse,  he'd  beat  them  hollow ; 
Nay,  if  he  put  forth  all  his  strength, 
Outstrip  his  brethren  half  a  length. 

2.  A  tortoise  heard  his  vain  oration, 
And  vented  thus  his  indignation : — 

"  O  puss  !  it  bodes  thee  dire  disgrace, 

When  I  defy  thee  to  the  race. 

Come,  'tis  a  match  ;  nay,  no  denial : 

I  lay  my  shell  upon  the  trial." 

'Twas  "Done  !"  and  "  Done  !"  "All  fair  !"  "  A  bet !" 

Judges  prepared,  and  distance  set. 

3.  The  scampering  hare  outstripped  the  wind ; 
The  creeping  tortoise  lagged  behind, 

♦  Yorcj  long  ago,  of  old  time. 
10 


110  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

And  scarce  had  passed  a  single  pole, 
When  puss  had  almost  reached  the  goal. 
"  Friend  tortoise,"  quoth  the  jeering  hare, 
"  Your  burden's  more  than  you  can  bear ; 
To  help  your  speed  it  were  as  well 
That  I  should  ease  you  of  your  shell : 
Jog  on  a  little  faster,  pr'ythee  ; 
I'll  take  a  nap,  and  then  be  v\dth  thee." 

4.  So  said,  so  done,  and  safely,  sure  ; 
For  say,  what  conquest  more  secure  ? 
When'er  he  waked,  (that's  all  that's  in  it,) 
He  could  o'ertake  him  in  a  minute. 

The  tortoise  heard  his  taunting  jeer, 

But  still  resolved  to  persevere  ; 

Still  drawled  along,  as  who  should  say, 

"  I'll  win,  like  Fabius,*  by  delay ;" 

On  to  the  goal  securely  crept. 

While  puss,  unknowino^,  soundly  slept. 

5.  The  bets  were  won,  the  hare  awoke, 
When  thus  the  ■vdctor-tortoise  spoke : — 

*'  Puss,  though  I  own  thy  quicker  parts. 
Things  are  not  always  done  by  starts  ; 
You  may  deride  my  awkward  pace. 
But  slow  and  steady  wins  the  raceP 


LESSON  LIX. 

The  Painter  who  pleased  Nobody  and  Every  Body. — Gay. 

1.  Lest  men  suspect  your  tale  untrue, 
Keep  probability  in  view. 

The  trav'ller,  leaping  o'er  those  bounds. 
The  credit  of  his  book  confounds. 
Who  with  his  tongue  hath  armies  routed, 
Makes  e'en  his  real  courage  doubted. 

2.  But  flatt'ry  never  seems  absurd  ; 
The  flatter'd  always  take  your  word ; 
Impossibilities  seem  just ; 

They  take  the  strongest  praise  on  trust ; 
Hyperboles,  though  e'er  so  great. 
Will  still  come  short  of  self  conceit. 

*  An  illustrious  Roman  General  who  opposed  Hannibal  in  Italy.     He 
died  203  years  B.  C. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  Ill 

3.  So  very  like  a  painter  drew, 
That  ev'ry  eye  the  picture  knew ; 
He  hit  complexion,  feature,  air, 
So  just  that  life  itself  was  there  ; 
No  flatt'ry  with  his  colors  laid, 
To  bloom  restor'd  the  faded  maid  ; 
He  gave  each  muscle  all  its  strength ; 
The  mouth,  the  chin,  the  nose's  length, 
His  honest  pencil  touch'd  with  truth. 
And  mark'd  the  date  of  age  and  youth. 

4.  He  lost  his  friends ;  his  practice  fail'd. 
Truth  should  not  always  be  reveal' d  ; 

In  dusty  piles  his  pictures  lay. 
For  no  one  sent  the  second  pay. 

5.  Two  busto's,  fraught  with  ev'ry  grace, 
A  Venus'*  and  Apollo'sf  face. 

He  plac'd  in  view — resolv'd  to  please. 
Whoever  sat,  he  drew  from  these ; 
From  these  corrected  every  feature, 
And  spirited  each  awkward  creature. 

6.  All  things  were  set ;  the  hour  v/as  come, 
His  palette:j:  ready  o'er  his  thumb  : 

My  Lord  appear' d,  and  seated  right, 

In  proper  attitude  and  light, 

The  painter  look'd,  he  sketch'd  the  piece ; 

Then  dipt  his  pencil,  talk'd  of  Greece, 

Of  Titian'sll  tints,  of  Guido's||  air, 

"  Those  eyes,  my  Lord,  the  spirit  there. 

Might  well  a  Raphael's ||  hand  require, 

To  give  them  all  the  native  fire ; 

The  features,  fraught  with  sense  and  wit, 

You'll  grant,  are  very  hard  to  hit : 

But  yet,  with  patience,  you  shall  view 

As  much  as  paint  or  art  can  do : 

7.  Observe  the  work." — My  Lord  reply'd, 
"  Till  now,  I  thought  my  mouth  was  wide : 
Besides,  my  nose  is  somewhat  long ; 

Dear  sir,  for  me  'tis  far  too  young." 

*  Venus,  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  heathen  deities.  She  was  the 
goddess  of  beauty.     Copies  of  her  statue  are  used  as  models  by  painters. 

t  Apollo,  another  of  the  ancient  heathen  deities.  The  Apollo-Belvidere 
is  an  ancient  statue  of  the  first  class  in  excellence. 

t  Palette,  a  little  oval  table,  or  board,  on  which  the  painter  places  his 
colors  to  be  used,  and  mixes  them  to  obtain  the  requisite  tints. 

U  An  Italian  painter. 


112  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

"  O  pardon  me,"  the  artist  cry'd, 

"  In  this,  we  painters  must  decide. 

The  piece  e'en  common  eyes  must  strike ; 

I'll  warrant  it  extremely  like." 

My  Lord  examin'd  it  anew, 

No  looking-glass  seem'd  half  so  true. 

8.  A  lady  came.     With  borrow'd  grace, 
He  from  his  Venus  form'd  her  face, 

Her  lover  prais'd  the  painter's  art, 
So  like  the  picture  in  his  heart ! 
To  ev'ry  age  some  charm  he  lent ; 
E'en  beauties  were  almost  content. 

9.  Through  all  the  town  his  art  they  prais'd, 
His  custom  grew,  his  price  was  rais'd. 

Had  he  the  real  likeness  shown, 
Would  any  man  the  picture  own  ? 
But  when  thus  happily  he  wrought, 
Each  found  the  likeness  in  his  thought. 


LESSON  LX. 

Story  of  the  Siege  of  Calais. 

1.  Edward  the  III.  after  the  battle  of  Cressy,*  laid  siege  to 
Calais.!  He  had  fortified  his  camp  in  so  impregnable  a  man- 
ner, that  all  the  efforts  of  France  proved  ineffectual  to  raise  the 
siege,  or  throw  succors  into  the  city.  The  citizens  under  count 
Vienne,  their  gallant  governor,  made  an  admirable  defence. 

2.  France  had  now  put  the  sickle  into  her  second  harvest, 
since  Edward,  with  his  victorious  army,  sat  down  before  the 
town.  The  eyes  of  all  Europe  were  intent  on  the  issue.  At 
length,  famine  did  more  for  Edward  than  arms. 

3.  After  suffering  unheard  of  calamities,  they  resolved  to 
attempt  the  enemy's  camp.  They  boldly  sallied  forth ;  the 
English  joined  battle  ;  and  after  a  long  and  desperate  engage- 
ment, count  Vienne  was  taken  prisoner,  and  the  citizens,  who 
survived  the  slaughter,  retired  within  their  gates. 

4.  The  command  devolving  upon  Eustace  St.  Pierre,  a  man 
of  mean  birth,  but  of  exalted  virtue,  he  offered  to  capitulate  with 

*  Cressy,  a  town  of  France,  situated  on  the  river  Mayo,  100  miles  north 
of  Paris.  It  is  celebrated  for  the  great  victory  gained  on  the  26th  of  August, 
A.  D.  1346,  by  Edward  III.  of  England,  over  Philip  VI.  of  France. 

t  Cal-ais,  a  town  of  France,  situated  on  the  Straits  of  Dover,  taken  by 
Edward  III.  in  1347. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  113 

Edward,  provided  he  permitted  him  to  depart  with  hfe  and 
liberty.  Edward,  to  avoid  the  imputation  of  cruehy,  consented 
to  spare  the  bulk  of  the  Plebeians,*  provided  they  delivered  up 
to  him  six  of  their  principal  citizens,  with  halters  about  their 
necks,  as  victims  of  due  atonement  for  that  spirit  of  rebellion 
with  which  they  had  inflamed  the  vulgar. 

5.  When  the  messenger.  Sir  Walter  Mauny,  delivered  the 
terms,  consternation  and  pale  dismay  were  impressed  on  every 
countenance.  To  a  long  and  dead  silence,  deep  sighs  and 
groans  succeeded,  till  Eustace  St.  Pierre,  getting  up  to  a  little 
eminence,  thus  addressed  the  assembly  : 

6.  "  My  friends,  we  are  brought  to  great  straits  this  day ;  we 
must  either  yield  to  the  terms  of  our  cruel  and  ensnaring  con- 
queror, or  give  up  our  tender  infants,  our  wives  and  daughters, 
to  the  bloody  and  brutal  lusts  of  the  violating  soldiers. 

7.  "  Is  there  any  expedient  left  whereby  we  may  avoid  the 
guilt  and  infamy  of  delivering  up  those  who  have  suffered  every 
misery  with  you,  on  the  one  hand ;  or  the  desolation  and  horror 
of  a  sacked  city,  on  the  other?  There  is,  my  friends  ;  there  is 
one  expedient  left ;  a  gracious,  an  excellent,  a  godlike  expedient ! 
Is  there  any  here  to  whom  virtue  is  dearer  than  life  ?  Let  him 
offer  himself  an  oblation  for  the  safety  of  his  people  !  He  shall 
not  fail  of  a  blessed  approbation  from  that  power,  who  offered 
up  his  only  Son  for  the  salvation  of  mankind." 

8.  He  spoke — but  an  universal  silence  ensued.  Each  man 
looked  around  for  the  example  of  that  virtue  and  magnanimity, 
which  all  wished  to  approve  in  themselves,  though  they  wanted 
the  resolution.  At  length  St.  Pierre  resumed,  "I  doubt  not  but 
there  are  many  as  ready,  nay,  more  zealous  of  this  martyrdom, 
than  I  can  be;  though  the  station  to  which  lam  raided,  by  the 
captivity  of  Lord  Vienne,  iriSparts  a  right  to  be  the  first  in  giving 
my  life  for  your  sakes.     I  give  it  freely  ;  I  give  it  cheerfully. 

9.  "  Who  comes  next  ;"  "  Your  son,"  exclaimed  a  youth, 
not  yet  come  to  maturity.  "  Ah,  my  child  !"  cried  St.  Pierre, 
"  I  am  then  twice  sacrificed.  But,  no  ;  I  have  rather  begotten 
thee  a  second  time.  Thy  years  are  few,  but  full,  my  son. 
The  victim  of  virtue  has  reached  the  utmost  purpose  and  goal  of 
mortality.  Who  next,  my  friends?  This  is  the  hour  of  heroes !" 
"  Your  kinsman,"  cried  John  de  Aire.  "Your  kinsman,"  cried 
James  Wissant.     "  Your  kinsman,"  cried  Peter  Wissant. 

10.  "Ah!"  exclaimed  Sir  Walter  Mauny,  bursting  into  tears, 
**  Why  was  I  not  a  citizen  of  Calais  ?"     The  sixth  victim  was 

*  Plebeian,  one  of  the  common  people,  or  lower  ranks  of  men. 
10* 


114  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

still  wanting,  but  was  quickly  supplied  by  lot,  from  numbers 
who  were  now  emulous  of  so  ennobling  an  example.  The  keys 
of  the  city  were  then  delivered  to  Sir  Walter.  He  took  the  six 
prisoners  into  his  custody;  then  ordered  the  gates  to  be  opened, 
and  gave  charge  to  his  attendants  to  conduct  the  remaining  citi- 
zens with  their  families,  through  the  camp  of  the  English. 

11.  Before  they  departed,  however,  they  desired  permission 
to  take  their  adieu  of  their  deliverers.  What  a  parting  !  What 
a  scene  !  They  crowded,  with  their  wives,  and  children,  about 
St.  Pierre  and  his  fellow  prisoners.  They  embraced ;  they 
clung  around  ;  they  fell  prostrate  before  them. 

12.  They  groaned  ;  they  wept  aloud  ;  and  the  joint  clamor 
of  their  mourning  passed  the  gates  of  the  city,  and  was  heard 
throughout  the  English  camp.  The  English  by  this  time  were 
apprised  of  what  passed  within  Calais. 

13.  They  heard  the  voice  of  lamentation,  and  they  were 
touched  with  compassion.  Each  of  the  soldiers  prepared  a 
portion  of  his  own  victuals  to  welcome  and  entertain  the  half- 
famished  inKabitants  ;  and  they  loaded  them  with  as  much  as 
their  present  weakness  was  able  to  bear,  in  order  to  supply 
them  with  sustenance  by  the  way. 

14.  At  length  St.  Pierre  and  his  fellow  victims  appeared, 
under  the  conduct  of  Sir  Walter  and  a  guard.  All  the  tents  of 
the  English  M'ere  instantly  emptied.  The  soldiers  poured  from 
all  parts,  and  arranged  themselves  on  each  side,  to  behold, 
to  contemplate,  to  admire,  this  little  band  of  patriots,  as  they 
passed. 

15.  They  bowed  down  to  them  on  all  sides.  They  murmur- 
ed their  applause  of  that  virtue,  Avhich  they  could  not  but  revere, 
even  in  enemies ;  and  they  regarded  those  ropes  M'liich  they 
voluntarily  assumed  about  their  ifecks,  as  ensigns  of  greater 
dignity  than  that  of  the  British  garter.* 

16.  As  soon  as  they  had  reached  the  presence,  "  Mauny," 
says  the  Monarch,  "  are  these  the  principal  inhabitants  of 
Calais  ?"  "  They  are,"  says  Mauny  ;  "  they  are  not  only  the 
principal  men  of  Calais,  but  they  are  the  principal  men  of 
France,  my  lord,  if  virtue  has  any  share  in  the  act  of  ennobling." 
"Were  they  delivered  peaceably?"  says  Edward.  "  Was  there 
no  resistance,  no  commotion  among  the  people  ?"  "  Not  in  the 
least,  my  lord !  the  people  would  all  have  perished,  rather 
than  have  delivered  the  least  of  these  to  your  Majesty.     They 

*  Garter,  the  badge  of  an  order  of  knighthood  in  Great  Britain,  instituted 
by  Edward  HI. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  115 

are  self-delivered,  self-devoted,  and  come  to  offer  up  their 
inestimable  heads,  as  an  ample  equivalent  for  the  ransom  of 
thousands." 

17.  Edward  was  secretly  piqued*  at  this  reply  of  Sir  Walter; 
but  he  knew  the  privilege  of  a  British  subject,  and  suppressed 
nis  resentment.  "  Experience,"  says  he,  "has  ever  shown,  that 
lenity  only  serves  to  invite  people  to  new  crimes.  Severity,  at 
times,  is  indispensably  necessary,  to  compel  subjects  to  submis- 
sion, by  punishment  and  example."  "  Go,"  he  cried  to  an 
officer,  "  lead  these  men  to  execution." 

18.  At  this  instant  a  sound  of  triumph  was  heard  throughout 
the  camp.  The  queen  had  just  arrived  with  a  powerful  rein- 
forcement of  gallant  troops.  Sir  Walter  Mauny  flew  to  receive 
her  Majesty,  and  briefly  informed  her  of  the  particulars  respect- 
ing the  six  victims. 

19.  As  soon  as  she  had  been  welcomed  by  Edward  and  his 
court,  she  desired  a  private  audience.  "  My  lord,"  said  she, 
"  the  question  I  am  to  enter  upon,  is  not  touching  the  lives  of  a 
few  mechanics — it  respects  the  honor  of  the  English  nation;  it 
respects  the  glory  of  my  Edward,  my  husband,  and  my  king. 

20.  "  You  think  you  have  sentenced  six  of  your  enemies  to 
death.  No,  my  lord,  they  have  sentenced  themselves ;  and 
their  execution  would  be  the  execution  of  their  own  orders,  not 
the  orders  of  Edward.  The  stage  on  which  they  would  suffer, 
would  be  to  them  a  stage  of  honor,  but  a  stage  of  shame  to 
Edward  ;  a  reproach  on  his  conquests  ;  an  indelible  disgrace 
to  his  name. 

21.  "Let  us  rather  disappoint  these  haughty  burghers,  who 
wish  to  invest  themselves  with  glory  at  our  expense.  We 
cannot  wholly  deprive  them  of  the  merit  of  a  sacrifice  so  nobly 
intended,  but  we  may  cut  them  short  of  their  desires ;  in  place 
of  that  death  by  which  their  glory  would  be  consummate,  let 
us  bury  them  under  gifts ;  let  us  put  them  to  confusion  with 
applauses. 

22.  "  We  shall  thereby  defeat  them  of  that  popular  opinion, 
which  never  fails  to  attend  those  who  suffer  in  the  cause  of 
virtue."  "  I  am  convinced  ;  you  have  prevailed.  Be  it  so," 
replied  Edward ;  "  prevent  the  execution  ;  have  them  instantly 
before  us." 

23.  They  came  ;  when  the  Queen,  with  an  aspect  and  accent 
diffusing  sweetness,  thus  bespoke  them:  "Natives  of  France, 
and  inhabitants  of  Calais,  you  have  put  us  to  a  vast  expense  of 

♦  Pronounced  peek'd,  offended. 


116  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

blood  and  treasure  in  the  recovery  of  our  just  natural  inherit- 
ance ;  but  you  have  acted  up  to  the  best  of  an  erroneous  judg- 
ment ;  and  we  admire  and  honor  in  you  that  valor  and  virtue, 
by  which  we  are  so  long  kept  out  of  our  rightful  possessions. 

24.  "You,  noble  burghers !  You, excellent  citizens !  Though 
you  were  ten-fold  the  enemies  of  our  person  and  our  throne, 
we  can  feel  nothing  on  our  part,  save  respect  and  affection  for 
you.     You  have  been  sufficiently  tested. 

25.  "  We  loose  your  chains ;  we  snatch  you  from  the  scaffold  ! 
and  we  thank  you  for  that  lesson  of  humiliation  which  you  teach 
us,  when  you  show  us,  that  excellence  is  not  of  blood,  of  title, 
or  station ;  that  virtue  gives  a  dignity  superior  to  that  of  kings  ; 
and  that  those  whom  the  Almighty  informs  with  sentiments 
like  yours,  are  justly  and  eminently  raised  above  all  human 
distinctions. 

26.  "  You  are  now  free  to  depart  to  your  friends,  relatives, 
and  countrymen,  to  all  those  whose  lives  and  liberties  you  have 
so  nobly  redeemed,  provided  you  refuse  not  the  tokens  of  our 
esteem.  Yet  we  would  rather  bind  you  to  ourselves  by  every 
endearing  obligation ;  and  for  this  purpose  we  offer  to  you  your 
choice  of  the  gifts  and  honors  that  Edward  has  to  bestow. 

27.  "  Rivals  for  fame,  but  always  friends  to  virtue  ;  we  wish 
that  England  were  entitled  to  call  you  her  sons."  "  Ah,  my 
country  !"  exclaimed  St.  Pierre  ;  "  it  is  now  that  I  tremble  for 
you.  Edward  only  wins  our  cities,  but  Philippa  conquers 
hearts." 


LESSON  LXI. 

Examples  of  Decision  of  Character. — John  Foster. 

1.  I  HAVE  repeatedly  remarked  to  you  in  conversation  the 
effect  of  what  has  been  called  a  ruling  passion.  When  its  object 
is  noble,  and  an  enlightened  understanding  directs  its  move- 
ments, it  appears  to  me  a  great  felicity ;  but  whether  its  object 
be  noble  or  not,  it  infalhbly  creates,  where  it  exists  in  great 
force,  that  active  ardent  constancy  which  I  describe  as  a  capital 
feature  of  the  decisive  character. 

2.  The  subject  of  such  a  commanding  passion  wonders,  if 
indeed  he  were  at  leisure  to  wonder,  at  the  persons  who  pretend 
to  attach  importance  to  an  object  which  they  make  none  but  the 
most  languid  efforts  to  secure.  The  utmost  powers  of  the  man 
are  constrained  into  the  service  of  the  favorite  cause  by  this 
passion,  which  sweeps  away,  as  it  advances,  all  the  trivial  ob- 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  117 

jections  and  little  opposing  motives,  and  seems  almost  to  open 
a  way  through  impossibilities. 

3.  This  spirit  comes  on  him  in  the  morning  as  soon  as  he 
recovers  his  consciousness,  and  commands  and  impels  him 
through  the  day  with  a  power  from  which  he  could  not  eman- 
cipate himself  if  he  would.  When  the  force  of  habit  is  added, 
the  determination  becomes  invincihle,  and  seems  to  assume 
rank  with  the  great  laws  of  nature,  making  it  nearly  as  certain 
that  such  a  man  will  persist  in  his  course  as  that  in  the  morn- 
ing the  sun  Avill  rise. 

4.  A  persisting  untameable  efficacy  of  soul  gives  a  seductive 
and  pernicious  dignity  even  to  a  character  and  a  course  which 
every  moral  principle  forbids  us  to  approve.  Often  in  the  nar- 
rations of  history  and  fiction,  an  agent  of  the  most  dreadful 
designs  compels  a  sentiment  of  deep  respect  for  the  uncon- 
querable mind  displayed  in  their  execution. 

5.  While  we  shudder  at  his  activity,  we  say  with  regret, 
mingled  with  an  admiration  which  borders  on  partiality, — What 
a  noble  being  this  would  have  been  if  goodness  had  been  his 
destiny !  The  partiality  is  evinced  in  the  very  selection  of  terms, 
by  which  we  show  that  we  are  tempted  to  refer  his  atrocity 
rather  to  his  destiny  than  to  his  choice. 

6.  In  some  of  the  high  examples  of  ambition,  we  almost 
revere  the  force  of  mind  which  impelled  them  forward  through 
the  longest  series  of  action,  superior  to  doubt  and  fluctuation, 
and  disdainful  of  ease,  of  pleasure,  of  opposition,  and  of  hazard. 

7.  We  bow  to  the  ambitious  spirit  which  reached  the  true 
sublime  in  the  reply  of  Pompey*  to  his  friends,  Avho  dissuaded 
him  from  venturing  on  a  tempestuous  sea,  in  order  to  be  at 
Rome  on  an  important  occasion  :  "  It  is  necessary  for  me  to  go 
— it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  live." 

8.  You  may  recollect  the  mention,  in  one  of  our  conversa- 
tions, of  a  young  man  who  wasted,  in  two  or  three  years,  a  large 
patrimony  in  profligate  revels  with  a  number  of  worthless  asso- 
ciates, who  called  themselves  his  friends,  and  who,  when  his 
last  means  were  exhausted,  treated  him,  of  course,  with  neglect 
or  contempt. 

9.  Reduced  to  absolute  want,  he  one  day  went  out  of  the 
house  with  an  intention  to  put  an  end  to  his  life  ;  but  wander- 
ing awhile  almost  unconsciously,  he  came  to  the  brow  of  an 
eminence  which  overlooked  what  were  lately  his  estates. 

*  Pompey,  a  distinguished  Roman  General,  vanquished  by  Cesar  in  the 
battle  of  Pharsalia. 


118  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

10.  Here  he  sat  down,  and  remained  fixed  in  thought  a  num- 
ber of  hours,  at  the  end  of  which  he  sprang  from  the  ground 
with  a  vehement  exuhinor  emotion.  He  had  formed  his  resolu- 
tion,  which  was,  tnat  all  these  estates  should  be  his  again:  he 
had  formed  his  plan  too,  which  he  instantly  began  to  execute. 

11.  He  walked  hastily  forward,  determined  to  seize  the  very 
first  opportunity,  of  however  humble  a  kind,  to  gain  any  money, 
though  it  were  ever  so  despicable  a  trifle,  and  resolved  absolute- 
ly not  to  spend,  if  he  c  rdd  help  it,  a  farthing  of  whatsoever  he 
might  obtain. 

12.  The  first  thing  that  drew  his  attention  was  a  heap  of  coals 
shot  out  of  carts  on  the  pavements  before  a  house.  He  ofiiered 
himself  to  shovel  or  wheel  them  into  the  place  where  they  were 
to  be  laid,  and  was  employed.  He  received  a  few  pence  for 
the  labor,  and  then  in  pursuance  of  the  saving  part  of  his  plan, 
requested  some  small  gratuity  of  meat  and  drink,  which  was 
given  him. 

13.  He  then  looked  out  for  the  next  thing  that  might  chance 
to  ofiier,  and  went,  with  indefatigable  industry,  through  a  suc- 
cession of  servile  employments  in  different  places,  of  longer 
and  shorter  duration,  still  scrupulously  avoiding,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, the  expense  of  a  penny.  He  promptly  seized  every 
opportunity  which  could  advance  his  design,  without  regard- 
ing the  meanness  of  occupation  or  appearance. 

14.  By  this  method  he  had  gained,  after  a  considerable  time, 
money  enough  to  purchase,  in  order  to  sell  again,  ^  few  cattle, 
of  which  he  had  taken  pains  to  understand  the  value.  He 
speedily  but  cautiously  turned  his  first  gains  into  second  advan- 
tages; retained,  without  a  single  deviation,  his  extreme  parsi- 
mony ;  and  thus  advanced  by  degrees  into  larger  transactions 
and  incipient  wealth. 

15.  I  did  not  hear,  or  have  forgotten,  the  continued  course  of 
his  life;  but  the  final  result  was,  that  he  more  than  recovered 
his  lost  possessions,  and  died  an  inveterate  miser  worth  60,000Z. 
I  have  always  recollected  this  as  a  signal  instance,  though  in 
an  unfortunate  and  ignoble  direction,  of  decisive  character,  and 
of  the  extraordinary  effect  which,  according  to  general  laws, 
belongs  to  the  strongest  form  of  such  a  character. 


LESSON  LXII. 

Ortogrul:  or,  the  Vanity  of  Riches. — Dr.  Johnson. 
1.  As  Ortogrul  of  Basra  was  one  day  wandering  along  the 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  119 

streets  of  Bagdad,*  musing  on  the  varieties  of  merchandise 
which  the  shops  opened  to  his  view  ;  and  observing  the  differ- 
ent occupations  which  busied  the  muhitude  on  every  side,  he 
was  awakened  from  the  tranquillity  of  meditation,  by  a  crowd  that 
obstructed  his  passage.  He  raised  his  eyes,  and  saw  the  chief 
vizier,!  who,  having  returned  from  the  divan,j:  was  entering  his 
palace. 

2.  Ortogrul  mingled  with  the  attendants  :  and  being  suppos- 
ed to  have  some  petition  for  the  vizier,  was  permitted  to  enter. 
He  surveyed  the  spaciousness  of  the  apartments,  admired  the 
walls  hung  with  golden  tapestry,  and  the  floors  covered  with 
silken  carpets  ;  and  despised  the  simple  neatness  of  his  own  little 
habitation. 

3.  "  Surely,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  this  palace  is  the  seat  of 
happiness  :  where  pleasure  succeeds  to  pleasure,  and  discontent 
and  sorrow  can  have  no  admission. — Whatever  nature  has  pro- 
vided for  the  delight  of  sense,  is  here  spread  forth  to  be  enjoyed. 
What  can  mortals  hope  or  imagine,  which  the  master  of  this 
palace  has  not  obtained  1  The  dishes  of  luxury  cover  his  table; 
the  voice  of  harmony  lulls  him  in  his  bowers  ;  he  breathes  the 
fragrance  of  the  groves  of  Java,  ||  and  sleeps  upon  the  down  of 
the  cygnets  of  Ganges.*^ 

4.  "  He  speaks,  and  his  mandate  is  obeyed  ;  he  wishes,  and 
his  wish  i^  gratified  ;  all  whom  he  sees,  obey  him,  dnd  all  whom 
he  hears,  natter  him.  How  different,  O  Ortogrul,  is  thy  con- 
dition, who  art  doomed  to  the  perpetual  torments  of  unsatisfied 
desire ;  and  who  hast  no  amusement  in  thy  power,  that  can 
withhold  thee  from  thy  own  reflections  ! 

5.  "  They  tell  thee  that  thou  art  wise  ;  but  what  does  wisdom 
avail  with  poverty  ?  None  will  flatter  the  poor ;  and  the  wise 
have  very  little  power  of  flattering  themselves.  That  man  is 
surely  the  most  wretched  of  the  sons  of  wretchedness,  who  lives 
with  his  own  faults  and  follies  always  before  him  ;  and  who  has 
none  to  reconcile  him  to  himself  by  praise  and  veneration.     I 

*  Bagdad,  a  city  in  Turkey  in  Asia,  situated  on  the  river  Tigris.  For 
more  than  500  years,  it  was  the  seat  of  the  Caliphs  and  capital  of  the  Ma- 
hometan empire,  and  was  one  of  the  most  splendid  and  populous  cities  in 
the  world.  It  has  greatly  decayed,  and  retains  but  little  of  its  ancient  splen- 
dor." 

t  Pronounced  viz'-yere,  the  Prime  Minister  of  the  Turkish  empire. 

%  Divan,  a  Turkish  council  or  assembly. 

II  Java,  one  of  the  principal  East  India  islands.  It  is  celebrated  for  the  fer- 
tility of  its  soil,  and  produces  in  abundance  the  richest  fruits,  and  finest  spices. 

§  Ganges,  a  large  river  in  Hindoostan,  esteemed  sacred  by  the  natives. — 
The  cygnet  is  the  young  of  the  swan,  a  water  fowl  of  snowy  whiteness. 


120  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

have  long  sought  content,  and  have  not  found  it ;  I  will  from 
this  moment  endeavor  to  be  rich." 

6.  Full  of  his  new  resolution,  he  shut  himself  in  his  chamber 
for  six  months,  to  deliberate  how  he  should  grow  rich.  He 
sometimes  purposed  to  offer  himself  as  a  counsellor  to  one  of  the 
kings  of  India ;  and  sometimes  resolved  to  dig  for  diamonds  in 
the  mines  of  Golconda.* 

7.  One  day,  after  some  hours  passed  in  \'iolent  fluctuations 
of  opinion,  sleep  insensibly  seized  him  in  his  chair.  He  dream- 
ed that  he  was  ranging  a  desert  country,  in  search  of  some  one 
that  might  teach  him  to  grow  rich  ;  and  as  he  stood  on  the  top 
of  a  hill,  shaded  with  cypress,  in  doubt  whither  to  direct  his 
steps,  his  father  appeared  on  a  sudden  standing  before  him. — 
"  Ortogrul,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  know  thy  perplexity  ;  listen 
to  thy  father ;  turn  thine  eye  on  the  opposite  mountain." 

8.  Ortogrul  looked,  and  saw  a  torrent  tumbling  down  the 
rocks,  roaring  with  the  noise  of  thunder,  and  scattering  its  foam 
on  the  impending  woods.  "  Now,"  said  his  father,  "  behold 
the  valley  that  lies  between  tlie  hills."  Ortogrul  looked,  and 
espied  a  little  well,  out  of  which  issued  a  small  rivulet.  "  Tell 
me  now,"  said  his  father,  "  dost  thou  wish  for  sudden  affluence, 
that  may  pour  upon  thee  like  the  mountain  torrent ;  or  for  a 
sloAV  and  gradual  increase,  resembling  the  rill  gliding  from  the 
well?" 

9.  "  Let  me  be  quickly  rich,"  said  Ortogrul ;  "  let  the  golden 
stream  be  quick  and  violent."  "  Look  round  thee,"  said  his 
father,  "  once  again,"  Ortogrul  looked,  and  perceived  the 
channel  of  the  torrent  dry  and  dusty  ;  but  following  the  rivulet 
from  the  well,  he  traced  it  to  a  wide  lake,  which  the  supply, 
slow  and  constant,  kept  always  full.  He  awoke,  and  determin- 
ed to  grow  rich  by  silent  profit,  and  persevering  industry. 

10.  Having  sold  his  patrimony,  he  engaged  in  merchandize ; 
and  in  twenty  years  purchased  lands,  on  which  he  raised  a 
house,  equal  in  sumptuousness  to  that  of  the  vizier,  to  which  he 
invited  all  the  ministers  of  pleasure,  expecting  to  enjoy  all  the 
felicity  which  he  had  imagined  riches  able  to  afford.  Leisure 
soon  made  him  weary  of  himself,  and  he  longed  to  be  persuaded 
that  he  was  great  and  happy.  He  was  courteous  and  liberal : 
he  gave  all  that  approached  him  hopes  of  pleasing  him,  and  all 
who  should  please  him  hopes  of  being  rewarded.  Every  art 
of  praise  was  tried,  and  every  source  of  adulatory  fiction  was 
exhausted. 

*  Golconda,  a  pro\inc€  of  Hindoostan,  now  called  Hyderabad.     It  was  for 
merly  celebrated  for  its  diamond  mines. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  121 

11.  Ortogrul  heard  his  flatterers  without  dehght,  because  he 
found  himself  unable  to  believe  them.  His  own  heart  told  him 
its  frailties ;  his  own  understanding  reproached  him  with  his 
faults.  "  How  long,"  said  he,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  have  I  been 
laboring  in  vain  to  am.ass  wealth,  which  at  last  is  useless  !  Let 
no  man  hereafter  wish  to  be  rich,  who  is  already  too  wise  to  be 
flattered." 


LESSON  LXIII. 

Schemes  of  Life  often  Elusory. — Dr.  Johnson. 

1.  Omar,  the  son  of  Hassan,  had  passed  seventy-five  years 
in  honor  and  prosperity.  The  favor  of  three  successive  califs* 
had  filled  his  house  with  j^old  and  silver  ;  and  whenever  he  ap- 
peared, the  benedictions  of  the  people  proclaimed  his  passage. 

2.  Terrestrial  happiness  is  of  short  continuance.  The  bright- 
ness of  the  flame  is  wasting  its  fuel ;  the  fragrant  flower  is  pass- 
ing away  in  its  own  odors.  The  vigor  of  Omar  began  to  fail ; 
the  curls  of  beauty  fell  from  his  head  !  strength  departed  from 
his  hands  ;  and  agility  from  his  feet.  He  gave  back  to  the  calif 
tlie  keys  of  trust,  and  the  seals  of  secresy  ;  and  sought  no  other 
pleasvu'e  for  the  remains  of  life,  than  the  converse  of  the  wise, 
and  the  gratitude  of  the  good. 

3.  The  powers  of  his  mind  were  yet  unimpaired.  His  cham- 
ber was  filled  with  visitants,  eager  to  catch  the  dictates  of  expe- 
rience, and  oflicious  to  pay  the  tribute  of  admiration.  Caled, 
the  son  of  the  viceroyf  of  Egypt,  entered  every  day  early,  and 
retired  late.  He  was  beautiful  and  eloquent.  Omar  admired 
his  wit,  and  loved  his  docility. 

4.  "  Tell  me,"  said  Caled,  "  thou  to  whose  voice  nations 
have  listened,  and  whose  wisdom  is  known  to  the  extremities  of 
Asia,  tell  me  how  I  may  resemble  Omar  the  prudent.  The 
arts  by  which  thou  hast  gained  power  and  preserved  it,  are  to 
thee  no  longer  necessary  or  useful ;  impart  to  me  the  secret  of 
tliy  conduct,  and  teach  me  the  plan  upon  which  thy  wisdom  has 
built  thy  fortune." 

5.  "  if  oung  man,"  said  Omar,  "  it  is  of  little  use  to  form  plans 
of  life.  When  I  took  my  first  survey  of  the  world,  in  my  twen- 
tieth year,  having  considered  the  various  conditions  of  mankind, 
in  the  hour  of  solitude,  I  said  thus  to  myself,  leaning  against  a 
cedar,  which  spread  its  branches  over  my  head : 

*  A  successor  of  Mahomet  among  the  Saracens. 
f  A  governor  appointed  by  a  king. 

11 


122  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

6.  "  Seventy  years  are  allowed  to  man ; .  I  have  yet  fifty 
remaining.  Ten  years  I  will  allot  to  the  attainment  of  knowl- 
edge, and  ten  I  will  pass  in  foreign  countries  ;  I  shall  be  learned, 
and  therefore  shall  be  honored  ;  every  city  will  shout  at  my 
arrival,  and  every  student  will  solicit  my  friendship.  Twenty 
years  thus  passed,  will  store  my  mind  Avith  images,  which  I 
shall  be  busy,  through  the  rest  of  my  life,  in  combining  and 
comparing. 

7.  "  I  shall  revel  in  inexhaustible  accumulations  of  intellect- 
ual riches  ;  I  shall  find  new  pleasures  for  every  moment,  and 
shall  never  more  be  weary  of  myself.  I  will  not,  however, 
deviate  too  far  from  the  beaten  track  of  life  ;  but  will  try  what 
can  be  found  in  female  delicacy.  I  will  marry  a  wife  beautiful 
as  the  Houries,*  and  wise  as  Zobeide  ;t  with  her  I  will  live 
twenty  years  within  the  suburbs  of  Bagdad,  in  every  pleasure 
that  wealth  can  purchase,  and  fancy  can  invent. 

8.  "  I  will  then  retire  to  a  rural  dwelling  ;  pass  my  days  in 
obscurity  and  contemplation  ;  and  lie  silently  down  on  the  bed 
of  death.  Through  my  life  it  shall  be  my  settled  resolution, 
that  I  will  never  depend  upon  the  smile  of  princes  ;  that  I  will 
never  stand  exposed  to  the  artifices  of  courts  ;  I  will  never  pant 
for  public  honors,  nor  disturb  my  quiet  with  the  affairs  of  state. 
Such  was  my  scheme  of  life,  which  I  impressed  indelibly  upon 
my  memory. 

9.  "  The  first  part  of  my  ensuing  time  was  to  be  spent  in 
search  of  knowledge,  and  I  know  not  how  I  was  diverted  from 
my  design.  I  had  no  visible  impediments  without,  nor  any 
ungovernable  passions  within.  I  regarded  knowledge  as  the 
highest  honor  and  the  most  engaging  pleasure  ;  yet  day  stole 
upon  day,  and  month  glided  after  month,  till  I  found  that  seven 
years  of  the  first  ten  had  vanished,  and  left  nothing  behind 
them. 

10.  "  I  now  postponed  my  purpose  of  travelling  ;  for  why 
should  I  go  abroad,  while  so  much  remained  to  be  learned  at 
home  ?  I  immured  myself  for  four  years,  and  studied  the  laws 
of  the  empire.  The  fame  of  my  skill  reached  the  judges  ;  I 
was  found  able  to  speak  upon  doubtful  questions  ;  and  was 
commanded  to  stand  at  the  footstool  of  the  calif.  I  was  heard 
with  attention  ;  I  was  consulted  with  confidence  ;  and  the  love 
of  praise  fastened  on  my  heart. 

11.  "I  still  wished  to  see  distant  countries  ;  listened  with 
rapture  to  the  relations  of  travellers  ;  and  resolved  some  time 

♦  Houries,  among  Mohammedans,  nymphsof  paradise,  of  exquisite  beauty, 
t  Pronounced  Zo-bi -de. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  123 

to  ask  my  dismission,  that  I  might  feast  my  soul  with  novelty: 
but  my  presence  was  always  necessary ;  and  the  stream  of 
business  hurried  me  along.  Sometimes  I  was  afraid  lest  I 
should  be  charged  with  ingratitude ;  but  I  still  proposed  to 
travel,  and  therefore  would  not  confine  myself  by  marriage. 

12.  "In  my  fiftieth  year,  I  began  to  suspect  that  the  time 
of  travelling  was  past ;  and  thought  it  best  to  lay  hold  on  the 
felicity  yet  in  my  power,  and  indulge  myself  in  domestic  pleas- 
ures. But  at  fifty  no  man  easily  finds  a  woman  beautiful  as 
the  Houries,  and  wise  as  Zobeide,  I  inquired  and  rejected, 
consulted  and  deliberated,  till  the  sixty-second  year  made  me 
ashamed  of  wisliing  to 'marry.  I  had  now  nothing  left  but 
retirement ;  and  for  retirement  I  never  found  a  time  till  disease 
forced  me  from  public  employment. 

13.  "Such  was  my  scheme,  and  such  has  been  its  conse- 
quence. With  an  insatiable  thirst  for  knowledge,  I  trifled 
away  the  years  of  improvement ;  with  a  restless  desire  of  see- 
ing different  countries,  I  have  always  resided  in  the  same  city; 
with  the  highest  expectation  of  connubial  felicity,  I  have  lived 
unmarried ;  and  with  unalterable  resolutions  of  contemplative 
retirement,  I  am  going  to  die  within  the  walls  of  Bagdad." 


LESSON  LXIV. 

The  Hill  of  Science. — Aikin. 

1.  In  that  season  of  the  year,  when  the  serenity  of  the  sky, 
the  various  fruits  which  cover  the  ground,  the  discolored  foliage 
of  the  trees,  and  all  the  sweet,  but  fading  graces  of  inspiring 
autumn,  open  the  mind  of  benevolence,  and  dispose  it  for  con- 
templation, I  was  wandering  in  a  beautiful  and  romantic  coun- 
try, till  curiosity  began  to  give  way  to  weariness  ;  and  I  sat 
down  on  the  f'-agment  of  a  rock  overgrown  with  moss  ;  where 
the  rustling  of  the  fallen  leaves,  the  dashing  of  waters,  and  the 
hum  of  the  distant  city,  sooth  my  mind  into  a  most  perfect 
tranquillity ;  and  sleep  insensibly  stole  upon  me,  as  I  was  in- 
dulging the  agreeable  reveries,  which  the  objects  around  me 
naturally  inspired. 

2.  I  immediately  found  myself  in  a  vast  extended  plain,  in  the 
middle  of  which  arose  a  mountain  higher  than  I  had  before  any 
conception  of.  It  was  covered  with  a  multitude  of  people,  chief- 
ly youth ;  many  of  whom  pressed  forward  with  the  liveliest 
expression  of  ardor  in  their  countenance,  though  the  way  was 
in  many  places  steep  and  difficult. 


124  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

3.  I  observed,  that  those,  who  had  but  just  began  to  dimb 
the  hill,  thought  themselves  not  far  from  the  top  ;  but  as  they 
proceeded  new  hills  were  continually  rising  to  their  view  ;  and 
the  summit  of  the  highest  they  could  before  discern,  seemed 
but  the  foot  of  another,  till  the  mountain  at  length  appeared 
to  lose  itself  in  the  clouds.  As  I  was  gazing  on  these  things 
with  astonishment,  a  friendly  instructor  suddenly  appeared  : 
"  the  mountain  before  thee,"  said  he,  "  is  the  Hill  of  Science. 
On  the  top  is  the  Temple  of  Truth,  whose  head  is  above  the 
clouds,  and  a  vail  of  pure  light  covers  her  face.  Observe  the 
progress  of  her  votaries;  be  silent  and  attentive." 

After  I  had  noticed  a  variety  of  objects,  I  turned  my  eye 
towards  the  multitudes  M'ho  were  climbing  the  steep  ascent ; 
and  observed  among  them  a  youth  of  a  lively  look,  a  piercing 
eye,  and  something  fiery  and  irregular  in  all  his  motions.  His 
name  was  Genius.  He  darted  like  an  eagle  up  the  mountain  ; 
and  left  his  companions  gazing  after  him  with  envy  and  admi- 
ration :  but  his  progress  was  unequal,  and  interrupted  by  a 
thousand  caprices. 

5.  When  Pleasure  warbled  in  the  valley,  he  mingled  in  her 
train.  When  Pride  beckoned  towards  the  precipice,  he  ven- 
tured to  the  tottering  edge.  He  delighted  in  devious  and  un- 
tried paths  ;  and  made  so  many  excursions  from  the  road,  that 
his  feebler  companions  often  outstripped  him.  I  observed 
that  the  Muses*  beheld  him  with  partiality ;  but  Truth  often 
frowned  and  turned  aside  her  face. 

6.  While  Genius  was  thus  wasting  his  strength  in  eccentric 
flights,  I  saw  a  person  of  very  different  appearance,  named 
Application.  He  crept  along  with  a  slow  and  unremitting 
pace,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  patiently  re- 
moving every  stone  that  obstructed  his  way,  till  he  saw  most 
of  those  below  him,  who  had  at  first  derided  his  slow  and  toil- 
some progress. 

7.  Indeed,  there  were  few  who  ascended  the  hill  with  equal 
and  uninterrupted  steadiness  ;  for,  besides  the  difllculties  of  the 
way,  they  were  continually  solicited  to  turn  aside,  by  a  nume- 
rous crowd  of  appetites,  passions,  and  pleasures,  whose  impor- 
tunity, when  once  complied  with,  they  became  less  and  less 
able  to  resist:  and  though  they  often  returned  to  the  path,  the 
asperities  of  the  road  were  more  severely  felt;  the  hill  appeared 

♦  Muses,  certain  goddesses  among  the  ancients,  or  in  heathen  mytholoj^v, 
nine  in  number,  to  whom  the  invention  of  sciences  is  attributed,  particularly 
the  various  kinds  of  poetry. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  125 

more  steep  and  rugged  ;  the  fruits,  which  were  wholesome  and 
refreshing,  seemed  harsh  and  ill  tasted  ;  their  sight  grew  dim  ; 
and  their  feet  tript  at  every  little  obstruction. 

8.  I  saw,  with  some  surprise,  that  the  muses,  whose  business 
was  to  cheer  and  encourage  those  who  were  toiling  up  the 
ascent,  would  often  sing  in  the  bowers  of  pleasure,  and  accom- 
pany those  who  were  enticed  away  at  the  call  of  the  passions. 
They  accompanied  them,  however,  but  a  little  way ;  and  al- 
ways forsook  them  when  they  lost  sight  of  the  hill.  The  tyrants 
then  doubled  their  chains  upon  the  unhappy  captives  ;  and  led 
them  away,  without  resistance,  to  the  cells  of  Ignorance,  or 
the  mansions  of  Misery. 

0.  Amongst  the  innumerable  seducers,  who  were  endeavor- 
ing to  draw  away  the  votaries  of  Truth  from  the  path  of  sci- 
ence, there  was  one,  so  little  formidable  in  her  appearance, 
and  so  gentle  and  languid  in  her  attempts,  that  I  should  scarcely 
iiave  taken  notice  of  her,  but  for  the  numbers  she  had  imper- 
ceptibly loaded  with  her  chains. 

10.  Indolence,  (for  so  slie  was  called,)  far  from  proceeding 
to  open  hostilities,  did  not  attempt  to  turn  their  feet  out  of  the 
path,  bat  contented  herself  with  retarding  their  progress;  and 
the  purpose  she  could  not  force  them  to  abandon,  she  persuaded 
them  to  delay.  Her  touch  had  a  power  like  that  of  the  torpedo,* 
which  withered  the  strength  of  those  who  came  within  its  influ- 
ence. Her  unhappy  captives  still  turned  their  faces  towards 
tlie  temple,  and  always  hoped  to  arrive  there  ;  but  the  ground 
seemed  to  slide  from  beneath  their  feet,  and  they  found  them- 
selves at  the  bottom,  before  they  suspected  they  had  changed 
their  place. 

11.  The  placid  serenity,  which  at  first  appeared  on  their 
countenance,  changed  by  degrees  into  a  melancholy  languor, 
v\d]iich  was  tinged  with  deeper  and  deeper  gloom,  as  they  glided 
down  the  stream  of  insignificance ;  a  dark  and  sluggish  water, 
which  is  curled  by  no  breeze,  and  enlivened  by  no  murmur,  till 
it  falls  into  a  dead  sea,  where  startled  passengers  are  awakened 
by  the  shock,  and  the  next  moment  buried  in  thegulf  of  oblivion. 

12.  Of  all  the  unhappy  deserters  from  the  paths  of  Science, 
none  seemed  less  able  to  return  than  the  followers  of  Indolence. 
The  captives  of  appetite  and  passion  would  often  seize  the  mo- 
ment when  their  tyrants  were  languid  or  asleep,  to  escape  from 

♦  Torpedo,  a  fish  that  has  the  power  of  communicating  electric  Bhockg; 
If^  while  alive,  it  is  touched  even  with  a  long  stick,  it  benumbs  the  hand  that 
00  touches  it     It  is  found  in  tlie  rivers  of  bouth  America. 

11* 


126  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR 

their  enchantment;  but  the  dominion  of  Indolence  was  constant 
and  unremitted ;  and  seldom  resisted  till  resistance  was  in  vain. 

13.  After  contemplating  these  things,  I  turned  my  eyes  to- 
wards the  top  of  the  mountain,  where  the  air  was  always  pure 
and  exhilarating,  the  path  shaded  with  laurels  and  evergreens^ 
and  the  effulgence  which  beamed  from  the  face  of  Science  seem- 
ed to  shed  a  glory  round  her  votaries.  "  Happy,"  said  I,  "  are 
they  who  are  permitted  to  ascend  the  mountain!"  But  while 
I  was  pronouncing  this  exclamation  with  uncommon  ardor,  I 
saw,  standing  beside  me,  a  form  of  diviner  features,  and  a  more 
benign  radiance. 

14.  "  Happier,"  said  she,  "  are  they  whom  Virtue  conducts 
to  the  Mansions  of  Content !"  "  What,"  said  I,  "  does  Virtue 
then  reside  in  the  vale  ?"  "  I  am  found,"  said  she,  "  in  the  vale, 
and  I  illuminate  the  mountain.  I  cheer  the  cottager  at  his  toil, 
and  inspire  the  sage  at  his  meditation ;  I  mingle  in  the  crowd 
of  cities,  and  bless  the  hermit  in  his  cell.  I  have  a  temple  in 
every  heart  that  owns  my  influence ;  and  to  him  that  wishes 
for  me,  I  am  already  present.  Science  may  raise  thee  to  emi- 
nence ;  but  I  alone  can  guide  thee  to  felicity  !" 

15.  While  Virtue  was  thus  speaking,  I  stretched  out  my 
arms  towards  her,  with  a  vehemence  which  broke  my  slumber. 
The  chill  dews  were  falling  around  me,  and  the  shades  of 
evening  stretched  over  the  landscape.  I  hastened  homeward, 
and  resigned  the  night  to  silence  and  meditation. 


LESSON  LXV. 

The  Vision  ofMirza,  exhibiting-  a  Picture  of  Human  Life. — 

Spectator. 

1.  On  the  fifth  day  of  the  moon,  which,  according  to  the 
custom  of  my  forefathers,  I  always  keep  holy,  after  having 
washed  myself,  and  ofiered  up  my  morning  devotions,  I  ascend- 
ed the  high  hills  of  Bagdad,  in  order  to  pass  the  rest  of  the  day 
in  meditation  and  prayer. 

2.  As  I  was  here  airing  myself  on  the  tops  of  the  mountains, 
I  fell  into  a  profound  contemplation  on  the  vanity  of  human 
life  ;  and,  passing  from  one  thought  to  another,  "  Surely,"  said 
I,  "  man  is  but  a  shadow,  and  life  a  dream." 

3.  Whilst  I  was  thus  musing,  I  cast  my  eyes  towards  the 
summit  of  a  rock  that  was  not  far  from  me,  where  I  discovered 
one  in  the  habit  of  a  shepherd,  with  a  little  musical  instrument 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  127 

in  his  hand.     As  I  looked  upon  him,  he  appHed  it  to  his  lips, 
and  beffan  to  play  upon  it. 

4.  The  sound  of  it  was  exceedingly  sweetj.and  wrought  into 
a  variety  of  tones  that  were  inexpressibly  melodious,  and  alto- 
gether different  from  any  thing  I  had  ever  heard  :  they  put  me 
in  mind  of  those  heavenly  airs  that  are  played  to  the  departed 
souls  of  good  men  upon  their  first  arrival  in  Paradise,  to  wear 
out  the  impressions  of  the  last  agonies,  and  qualify  them  for 
the  pleasures  of  that  hajipy  place.  My  heart  melted  away  in 
secret  raptures. 

5.  I  had  been  often  told,  that  the  rock  before  me  was  the 
haunt  of  a  genius,*  and  that  several  had  been  entertained  with 
that  music,  who  had  passed  by  it,  but  never  heard  that  the 
musician  had  before  made  himself  visible. 

6.  When  he  had  raised  my  thoughts,  by  those  transporting 
airs  which  he  played,  to  taste  the  pleasures  of  his  conversation, 
as  I  looked  upon  him  like  one  astonished,  he  beckoned  to  me, 
and,  by  the  waving  of  his  hand,  directed  me  to  approach  the 
place  where  he  sat. 

7.  I  drew  near  with  that  reverence  which  is  due  to  a  superior 
nature  ;  and  as  my  heart  was  entirely  subdued  by  the  captivat- 
ing strains  I  had  heard,  I  fell  down  at  his  feet,  and  wept. 

8.  The  genius  smiled  upon  me  with  a  look  of  compassion 
and  affability  that  familiarized  him  to  my  imagination,  and  at 
once  dispelled  all  the  fears  and  apprehensions  with  which  I 
approached  him. 

9.  He  lifted  me  from  the  ground,  and  taking  me  by  the  hand, 
''  Mirza,"  said  he,  "  I  have  heard  thee  in  thy  soliloquies  ;  fol- 
low me." 

10.  He  then  led  me  to  the  highest  pinnacle  of  the  rock,  and 
placing  me  upon  the  top  of  it,  *'  Cast  thy  eyes  eastward,"  said 
he,  "and  tell  me  what  thou  seest."  "I  see,"  said  I,  "  a  huge 
valley,  and  a  prodigious  tide  of  water  rolling  through  it." 

11.  "The  valley  that  thou  seest,"  said  he,  "is  the  vale  of 
misery ;  and  the  tide  of  water  that  thou  seest,  is  part  of  the 
great  tide  of  eternity."  "  What  is  the  reason,"  said  I,  "  that 
the  tide  I  see,  rises  out  of  a  thick  mist  at  one  end,  and  again 
loses  itself  in  a  thick  mist  at  the  other?" 

13.  "  What  thou  seest,"  said  he,  "  is  that  portion  of  eternity 
which  is  called  Time,  measured  out  by  the  sun,  and  reaching 
from  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  its  consummation." 

*  Genius,  a  man  endowed  with  superior  mental  faculties.     Among  the 
ancients,  a  good  or  evil  spirit. 


128  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

13.  "  Examine  now,"  said  lie,  "  this  sea  that  is  bounded  with 
darkness  at  both  ends,  and  tell  me  what  thou  discoverest  in  it," 
"  I  see  a  bridge,"  said  I,  "  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  tide." 
"  The  bridge  thou  seest,"  said  he,  "  is  human  jife ;  consider  it 
attentively." 

14.  Upon  a  more  leisurely  survey  of  it,  I  found  tliat  it  con- 
sisted of  three  score  and  ten  entire  arches,  with  several  broken 
arches,  which,  added  to  those  that  were  entire,  made  up  the 
number  about  an  hundred. 

15.  As  I  was  countinor  the  arches,  the  genius  told  me  that 
this  bridge  consisted  at  first  of  a  thousand  arches  ;  but  that  a 
great  flood  swept  away  the  rest,  and  left  the  bridge  in  the  ruin- 
ous condition  I  now  beheld  it.  "  But  tell  me  further,"  said  he, 
"  what  thou  discoverest  on  it." — "  I  see  multitudes  of  people 
passing  over  it,"  said  1,  "  and  a  black  cloud  hanging  on  each 
end  of  it." 

16.  As  I  looked  more  attentively,  I  saw  several  of  the  pas- 
sengers dropping  through  the  bridge  into  the  great  tide  tliat 
flowed  under  it;  and  upon  further  examination,  perceived 
that  there  were  innumerable  trap  doors  that  lay  concealed  in 
the  bridge,  which  the  passengers  no  socuier  trod  upon,  but  they 
fell  through  them  into  the  tide,  and  immediately  disappeared. 

1 7.  These  hidden  pit-falls  were  set  very  thick  at  the  entrance 
of  the  bridge,  so  that  throngs  of  people  no  sooner  broke  through 
the  cloud,  but  many  of  them  fell  into  them.  They  grew  thinner 
towards  the  middle,  but  multiplied  and  lay  closer  together  to- 
wards the  end  of  the  arches  that  were  entire. 

18.  'i'here  were  indeed  some  persons,  but  their  number  was 
very  small,  that  continued  a  kind  of  hobbling  march  on  the 
broken  arches,  but  fell  through  one  after  another,  being  quite 
tired  and  spent  with  so  long  a  walk. 

19.  I  passed  some  time  in  the  contemplation  of  this  wonder- 
ful structure,  and  the  ffreat  variety  of  objects  which  it  presented. 
ISIy  heart  was  filled  with  a  deep  melancholy,  to  see  several 
dropping  unexpectedly  in  the  midst  of  mirth  and  jollity,  and 
catching  at  every  thing  that  stood  by  them,  to  save  themselves. 

20.  Some^ere  looking  up  towards  the  heavens  in  a  thought- 
ful posture,  and,  in  the  midst  of  a  speculation,  stumbled  and  fell 
out  of  sight. 

21.  Multitudes  were  very  busy  in  the  pursuit  of  bubbles 
that  glittered  in  their  eyes,  and  danced  before  them  ;  but  often, 
when  they  thought  themselves  within  the  reach  of  them,  their 
footing  failed,  and  down  they  sunk. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  129 

22.  In  this  confusion  of  objects,  I  observed  some  with  scime- 
tars  in  tlieir  hands,  and  others  with  urinals,  Avho  ran  to  and  fro 
uy)on  the  bridge,  thrusting  several  persons  on  trap-doors  which 
did  not  seem  to  lie  in  their  way,  and  which  they  might  have 
escaped,  liad  they  not  been  thus  forced  upon  them. 

2.3.  The  genius  seeing  me  indulge  myself  in  this  melancholy 
prospect,  told  me  I  had  dwelt  long  enough  upon  it :  "  Take 
thine  eyes  off  the  bridge,"  said  he,  "  and  tell  me  if  thou  seest 
any  thing  thou  dost  not  comprehend." 

24.  Upon  looking  up,  "  What  m.ean,"  said  I,  "  those  great 
flights  of  birds  that  are  perpetually  hovering  about  the  bridge, 
and  settling  upon  it  from  time  to  time  ?  I  see  vultures,  harpies, 
ravens,  cormorants,  and,  among  many  other  feathered  creatures, 
several  little  winged  boys,  that  perch  in  great  numbers  upon 
the  middle  arches." 

25.  "  These,"  said  the  genius,  "  are  envy,  avarice,  supersti- 
tion, despair,  love,  with  the  like  cares  and  passions  that  infest 
human  life." 

26.  I  here  fetched  a  deep  sigh  :  "  Alas,"  said  I,  "  man  was 
made  in  vain  !  how  is  he  given  away  to  misery  and  mortality  ! 
toi'tured  in  life,  and  swallowed  up  in  dcatli !"  The  genius  being 
moved  with  compassion  towards  me,  bid  rne  quit  so  uncomfort- 
able a  prospect. 

27.  "  Look  no  more,"  said  he,  "  on  man  in  the  first  stage  of 
his  existence,  in  his  setting  out  for  eternity  ;  but  cast  thine  eye 
on  that  thick  mist  into  which  the  tide  bears  the  several  genera- 
tions of  mortals  that  fall  into  it." 

28.  I  directed  my  sight  as  I  was  ordered,  and  (whether  or  no 
the  good  genius  strengthened  it  with  any  supernatural  force,  or 
dissipated  part  of  the  mist  that  was  before  too  thick  for  the  eye 
to  penetrate)  I  saw  the  valley  opening  at  the  farther  end,  and 
spreading  forth  into  an  immense  ocean,  that  had  a  liuge  rock  of 
adamant  running  through  the  midst  of  it,  and  dividing  it  into 
two  e(jual  parts. 

29.  The  clouds  still  rested  on  one  half  of  it,  insomuch  that  I 
could  discover  notliing  in  it  :  but  the  other  appeared  to  me  a 
vast  ocean,  plajited  with  innumerable  islands,  tliat  #ere  covered 
with  fruits  and  flowers,  and  interwoven  with  a  thousand  little 
sliining  seas  that  ran  among  them. 

30.  I  could  see  persons  dressed  in  glorious  habits,  with  gar- 
lands upon  their  heads,  passing  among  the  trees,  lying  down  by 
the  sides  of  fountains,  or  resting  on  beds  of  flowers  ;  and  could 
hear  a  confused  harmony  of  singing  birds,  falling  waters,  human 
voices,  and  musical  instruments. 


130  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

31.  Gladness  grew  in  me  at  the  discovery  of  so  delightful  a 
scene.  I  wished  for  the  wings  of  an  eagle,  that  I  might  fly 
away  to  those  happy  seats;  but  the  genius  told  me  there. was 
no  passage  to  them,  except  through  the  gates  of  death  that  I  saw 
opening  every  moment  upon  the  bridge. 

32.  "  The  islands,"  said  he,  "  that  lie  so  fresh  and  green  be- 
fore thee,  and  with  which  the  whole  face  of  the  ocean  appears 
spotted  as  far  as  thou  canst  see,  are  more  in  number  than  the 
sands  on  the  sea-shore  ;  there  are  myriads  of  islands  behind 
those  which  thou  here  discoverest,  reaching  further  than  thine 
eye,  or  even  thine  imagination,  can  extend  itself. 

33.  "  These  are  the  mansions  of  good  men  after  death,  who 
according  to  the  degree  and  kinds  of  virtue  in  which  they  excel- 
led, are  distributed  among  these  several  islands,  which  abound 
with  pleasures  of  different  kinds  and  degrees,  suitable  to  the 
relishes  and  perfections  of  those  who  are  settled  in  them  ;  every 
island  is  a  paradise  accommodated  to  its  respective  inhabitants. 

34.  "Are  not  these,  O  Mirza,  habitations  worth  contending 
for  ?  Does  life  appear  miserable,  that  gives  thee  opportunities 
of  earning  such  a  reward  ?  Is  death  to  be  feared,  that  will  con- 
vey thee  to  so  happy  an  existence  ?  Think  not  man  was  made 
in  vain,  who  has  such  an  eternity  reserved  for  him." 

35.  I  gazed  with  inexpressible  pleasure  on  these  happy 
islands.  At  length,  said  I,  "  Show  me  now,  I  beseech  thee,  the 
secrets  that  lie  hid  under  those  dark  clouds,  which  cover  the 
ocean  on  the  other  side  of  the  rock  of  adamant." 

36.  The  genius  making  me  no  answer,  I  turned  about  to 
address  myself  to  him  a  second  time,  but  I  found  that  he  had 
left  nie  :  I  then  turned  again  to  the  vision  which  I  had  been  so 
long  contemplating  ;  but  instead  of  the  rolling  tide,  the  arched 
bridge,  and  the  happy  islands,  I  saw  nothing  but  the  long  hol- 
low valley  of  Bagdad,  with  oxen,  sheep,  and  camels,  grazing 
upon  the  sides  of  it. 


LESSON  LXVI. 

The  Chameleon* — Merrick. 

1.  Oft  it  has  been  my  lot  to  mark 
A  proud,  conceited,  talking  spark, 
With  eyes  that  hardly  served  at  most 
To  guard  their  master  'gainst  a  post : 


♦  Pronounced  Ca-me'-le-un,  an  animal  of  the  lizard  kind,  subject  to  va- 
riations of  color. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  131 

Yet  round  the  world  the  blade  has  been 
To  see  whatever  could  be  seen. 
Returning  from  his  finish'd  tour. 
Grown  ten  times  perter  than  before  ; 
Whatever  word  you  chance  to  drop, 
The  travell'd  fool  your  mouth  will  stop; 
'*  Sir,  if  my  judgment  you'll  allow — 
"  I've  seen — and  sure  I  ought  to  know" — 
So  begs  you'd  pay  a  due  submission, 
And  acquiesce  in  his  decision. 

2.  Two  travellers  of  such  a  cast, 
As  o'er  Arabia's  wilds  they  pass'd, 
And  on  their  way  in  friendly  chat. 
Now  talk'd  of  this,  and  then  of  that, 
Discours'd  awhile,  'mongst  other  matter, 
Of  the  Chameleon's  form  and  nature. 

3.  "  A  stranger  animal,"  cries  one, 
"  Sure  never  liv'd  beneath  the  sun : 
A  lizard's  body,  lean  and  long, 

A  fish's  head,  a  serpent's  tongue, 
It's  foot  with  triple  claw  disjoin'd  : 
And  what  a  length  of  tail  behind  ! 
How  slow  its  pace  !  and  then  its  hue — 
Whoever  saw  so  fine  a  blue  ?" 

4.  "  Hold  there,"  the  other  quick  replies, 
"  'Tis  green — I  saw  it  with  these  eyes, 

As  late  with  open  mouth  it  lay. 
And  warm'd  it  in  the  sunny  ray  ; 
Stretch'd  at  its  ease  the  beast  I  view'd. 
And  saw  it  eat  the  air  for  food." 

5.  "  I've  seen  it,  Sir,  as  well  as  you. 
And  must  again  affirm  it  blue ; 

At  leisure  I  the  beast  survey'd 
E:^tended  in  the  cooling  shade." 

6.  "'Tis  green,  'ds  green,  Sir,  I  assure  ye" — 
"  Green  !"  cries  the  other,  in  a  fury — 

Why,  Sir — d'ye  think  I've  lost  my  eyes  !" 
"  'Twere  no  great  loss,"  the  friend  replies, 
"  For  if  they  always  serve  you  thus, 
You'll  find  'em  but  of  little  use." 

7.  So  high  at  last  the  contest  rose. 
From  words  they  almost  came  to  blows ; 
When  luckily  came  by  a  third  : 

To  him  the  question  they  referr'd ; 


132  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

And  begg'd  he'd  tell  'em  if  he  knew, 
Mliether  the  thing  was  green  or  blue. 

8.  "  Sirs,"  cries  the  umpire,  "  cease  your  pother- 
The  creature's  neither  one  r.ort'  other. 

I  cauglit  the  animal  last  night, 
And  view'd  it  o'er  by  candle  light : 
I  mark'd  it  well — 'twas  black  as  jet — 
You  stare — but,  Sirs,  Vve  got  it  yet, 
And  can  produce  it." — "  Pray,  Sir,  do  : 
I'll  lay  my  life  the  thing  is  blue." 
"  And  I'll  be  sworn  that  when  you've  seen 
The  reptile,  you'll  pronounce  him  green." 

9.  "  Well  then,  at  once  to  ease  your  doubt," 
Replies,  the  man,  "  I'll  turn  him  out : 

And  when  before  you  eyes  I've  set  him. 
If  you  don't  find  him  black,  I'll  eat  him." 

10.  He  said  ;  then  full  before  their  sight 
Produc'd  the  beast,  and  lo  ! — 'twas  white. 
Both  star'd — the  man  look'd  wond'rous  wise — 
"  My  children,"  the  Chameleon  cries, 

(Then  first  the  creature  found  a  tongue) 
"  You  all  are  right,  and  all  are  wrong  : 
When  next  you  talk  of  what  you  view, 
Think. others  see  as  well  as  you  : 
Nor  wonder  if  you  find  that  none 
Prefers  your  eye-sight  to  his  own." 


LESSON  LXVII. 

T^  Country  Bumpkin  and  Razor  seller. — P.  Pindar. 

1.  A  FELLOW,  in  a  market-town, 

Most  musical,  cried  razors  up  and  down. 
And  ofli?r'd  twelve  for  eiifhteen  pence  ; 

Which,  certainly,  seem'd  wond'rous  cheap. 

And,  for  the  money,  quite  a  heap. 
That  every  man  would  buy,  with  cash  and  sense. 

2.  A  country  bumpkin  the  great  oflxT  heard  ; 

Poor  Hodge, — who  sufTer'd  by  a  broad  black  beard, 
That  seem'd  a  shoe-brush  stuck  beneath  his  nose, 
With  cheerfulness  the  eighteen  pence  he  paid, 
And,  proudly,  to  himself,  in  whispers  said — 
"  This  rascal  stole  the  razors,  I  suppose. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  133 

3.  "  No  matter  if  the  fellow  be  a  knave, 
Provided  that  the  razors  shave ; 

It  certainly  will  be  a  monstrous  prize." 

So  home  the  clown,  with  his  good  fortune,  went, — 
Smiling, — in  heart  and  soul  content, 

And  quickly  soap'd  himself  to  ears  and  eyes. 

4.  Being  well  lather'd,  from  a  dish  or  tub, 

Hodge  now  began,  with  grinning  pain,  to  grub — 

Just  like  a  hedger  cutting  furze  : 

'Twas  a  vile  razor  ! — then  the  rest  he  try'd, — 
All  were  impostors.     "  Ah  !"  Hodge  sigh'd, 

"  I  wish  my  eighteen  pence  were  in  my  purse." 

5.  In  vain  to  chase  his  beard,  and  bring  the  graces. 

He  cut  and  dug,  and  whin'd,  and  stamp'd,  and  swore ; 
Brought  blood,  and  danc'd,  blasphem'd,  and  made  wry  faces 

And  curs'd  each  razor's  body,  o'er  and  o'er. 

His  muzzle,  form'd  of  opposition  stuff. 

Firm  as  a  Foxite,  would  not  lose  its  ruff; 
So  kept  it — laughing  at  the  steel  and  suds. 

6.  Hodge,  in  a  passion,  stretched  his  angry  jaws. 
Vowing  the  direst  vengeance,  with  clench'd  claws, 

On  the  vile  cheat  that  sold  the  goods. 
"  Razors  !  a  vile  confounded  dog ! 
Not  fit  to  scrape  a  hog." 

7.  Hodge  sought  the  fellow — found  him — and  begun — 
"  Perhaps,  Master  Razor-rogue  !  to  you  'tis  fun 

That  people  flay  themselves  out  of  their  lives. 

You  rascal !  for  an  hour  have  I  been  grubbing, 

Giving  my  crying  whiskers  here  a  scrubbing 
With  razors  just  like  oyster-knives. 

Sirrah  !  I  tell  you,  you're  a  knave. 

To  cry  up  razors  that  can't  shave." 

8.  '*  Friend,"  quoth  the  razor-man,  "  I'm  not  a  knave. 
As  for  the  razors  you  have  bought, — 

Upon  my  soul,  I  never  thought 
That  they  would  shave.''"' 

9.  "Not f/^mA: they'd 6rA,a?)e /"'quoth Hodge, with wond'ringeyee 
And  voice  not  much  unlike  an  Indian  yell, 

"  What  were  they  made  for  then,  you  dog  ?"  he  cries. 
"  Made !"  quoth  the  fellow,  with  a  smile — "  to  sell." 

12 


134  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  LXVIIL 

The  Gascon  Peasant  and  the  Flies. 

1.  At  Neuchatel,  in  France,  where  they  prepare 
Cheeses,  that  set  us  longing  to  be  mites, 
There  dwelt  a  farmer's  wife,  famed  for  her  rarer 
Skill  in  these  small  quadrangular  delights. 

Where  they  were  made,  they  were  sold  for  the  immense 

Price  of  three  sous*  apiece. 

But  as  salt  water  made  their  charms  increase. 

In  England,  the  fixed  rate  was  eighteen  pence. 

2.  This  damsel  had,  to  keep  her  in  her  farm, 
To  milk  her  cows,  and  feed  her  hogs, 

A  Gascon  peasant,  with  a  sturdy  arm 
For  digging,  or  for  carrying  logs : 
But  in  his  noddle,  weak  as  any  baby, 

In  fact  a  gaby  : 
And  such  a  glutton  when  you  came  to  feed  him, 
That  Wantley's  dragon,  who  "  ate  barns  and  churches 
As  if  they  were  geese  and  turkeys," 
(See  the  ballad)  scarcely  could  exceed  him. 

3.  One  morn  she  had  prepared  a  monstrous  bowl 

Of  cream,  like  nectar  ! 
And  would'nt  go  to  church  (good  careful  soul) 
Till  she  had  left  it  safe  with  a  protector ; 
So  she  gav^e  strict  injunctions  to  the  Gascon, 
To  watch  it  while  his  mistress  was  to  mass  goni 
Watch  it  he  did ;  he  never  took  his  eyes  off, 
But  licked  his  upper,  then  his  under  lip. 
And  doubled  up  his  fist  to  drive  the  flies  off, 
Begrudging  them  the  smallest  sip. 

Which  if  they  got, 
Like  my  Lord  Salisbury,  he  heaved  a  sigh, 
And  cried,  "  Oh  happy,  happy  fly  ! 
How  I  do  envy  you  your  lot." 

3.  Each  moment  did  his  appetite  grow  stronger ; 
His  bowels  yearned  ; 
At  length  he  could  not  bear  it  any  longer, 
But,  on  all  sides  his  looks  he  turned, 
And,  finding  that  the  coast  was  clear,  he  quaffed 
The  whole  up  at  a  draught. t 

♦  Pronounced  soo — a  sous  is  of  the  value  of  a  halfpenny. 
t  Pronounced  draft. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  135 

5.  Scudding  from  church,  the  farmer's  wife 

Flew  to  the  dairy  ; 
But  stood  aghast,  and  could  not,  for  her  life, 

.  One  sentence  mutter. 
Until  she  summoned  breath  enough  to  utter 

"  Holy  St.  Mary"— 
And  shortly,  with  a  face  of  scarlet, 
The  vixen*  (for  she  was  a  vixen)  flew 

Upon  the  varlet  ;t 
Asking  the  when,  and  where,  and  how,  and  who 
Had  gulped  her  cream,  nor  left  an  atom  ? 
To  whir'h  he  made  not  separate  replies, 
But  with  a  look  of  excellent  digestion 
One  answer  made  to  every  question — 

"  The  Fhes." 

6.  "  The  flies,  you  rogue  ! — the  flies,  you  guttling  dog ! 
Behold  your  whiskers  still  are  covered  thickly, 
Thief!   Liar!  Villain!  Gormandizer!  Hog! 

I'll  make  you  tell  another  story  quickly." 
So  out  she  bounced,  and  brought,  with  loud  alarms, 

Two  stout  Gens  d'Armes,| 
Who  bore  him  to  the  Judge : — a  little  prig 

With  angry  bottle  nose, 
Like  a  red-cabbage-rose. 
While  lots  of  lohite  ones  flourish'd  on  his  wiff. 


•o' 


7.  Looking  at  once  both  stern  and  wise, 

He  turned  to  the  delinquent. 
And  'gan  to  question  him  and  catechise 

As  to  which  Avay  the  drink  went. 
Still  the  same  dogged  answers  rise, 
"  The  flies,  my  lord, — the  flies,  the  flies." 

8.  "  Pshaw,"  quoth  the  Judge,  half  peevish,  and  half  pompous, 

"  Why  you're  non-com,pos ; 
You  should  have  watched  the  bowl,  as  she  desired, 

And  killed  the  flies,  you  stupid  clown." 
"  What,  is  it  lawful  then,"  the  dolt  inquired, 
"  To  kill  the  flies  in  this  here  town  ?" 

9.  "  The  man's  a  fool ! — What  question's  this  ? 
Lawful !  you  booby, — to  be  sure  it  is  : 


♦  Vixen,  a  cross,  quarrelsome  woman.  t  Varlet,  a  scoundrel. 

t  Gens  d'Ai?nes,  guards. 


136  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

You've  my  authority,  where'er  you  meet  'em, 
To  kill  the  rogues,  and,  if  you  like,"  to  eat  'em  !" 

10.  "  Zooks,"  cried  the  rustic,  "  I'm  right  glad  to  hear  it. 
Constable,  catch  that  thief!  may  I  go  hang 
If  yonder  blue  bottle  (I  know  his  face) 
Is  not  the  very  leader  of  the  gang 
That  stole  the  cream ;  let  me  come  near  it." 
This  said,  he  darted  from  his  place. 
And  aiming  one  of  his  sledge-hammer  blows 
At  a  large  fly  upon  the  Judge's  nose — 

The  luckless  blue  bottle  he  smashed ; 
And  gratified  a  double  grudge. 
For  the  same  catapult  completely  smashed 
The  bottle  nose  belonging  to  the  Jud^e ! 


LESSON  LXIX. 

The  Progress  of  Untruth. — Byron. 

1.  Two  honest  tradesmen  meeting  in  the  Strand,* 
One  took  the  other,  briskly,  by  the  hand ; 

"  Hark  ye,"  said  he,  "  'tis  an  odd  story  this, 
About  the  crows  !" — "  I  don't  know  what  it  is,'* 
Reply'd  his  friend — "  No  !  I'm  surpris'd  at  that ; 
Where  I  come  from,  it's  the  common  chat : 

2.  "  But  you  shall  hear  ; — an  odd  affair  indeed  ! 
And  that  it  happen'd,  they  are  all  agreed  : 

Not  to  detain  you  from  a  thing  so  strange, 
A  gentleman  that  lives  not  far  from  'Change,! 
This  week,  in  short  as  all  the  alley  knows. 
Taking  a  puke,  has  thrown  up  three  black  cro2VS.^^ 

3.  "  Impossible  !" — "  Nay,  but  it's  really  true  ; 
I  have  it  from  good  hands,  and  so  may  you" — 

"  From  whose,  I  pray  ?"  so  having  nam'd  the  man, 

Straight  to  inquire  his  curious  comrade  ran. 

"  Sir,  did  you  tell" — relating  the  affair — 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  did ;  and  if  it's  worth  your  care, 

Ask  Mr.  Such-a-one,  he  told  it  me ; 

But,  by  the  bye,  'twas  two  black  crows,  not  three." — 

♦  Strand,  the  name  of  a  street  in  London. 

t  'Change,  for  Exchange,  a  place  where  merchants  and  others  meet  to 
transact  business. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  137 

4.  Resolv'd  to  trace  so  wond'rous  an  event, 
Whip,  to  the  third,  the  virtuoso  went. 

*'  Sir," — and  so  forth — "  Why,  yes  ;  the  thing  is  fact, 
Though  in  regard  to  number  not  exact ; 
It  was  not  two  black  crows,  'twas  only  one, 
The  truth  of  that  you  may  depend  upon." 

5.  "  The  gentleman  himself  told  me  the  case" — 

•'  Where  may  I  find  him?" — "  Why,  in  such  a  place.'* 

Away  goes  he,  and  having  found  him  out, 

*'  Sir,  be  so  good  as  to  resolve  a  doubt" — 

Then  to  his  last  informant  he  referr'd, 

And  begg'd  to  know,  if  true  what  he  had  heard ; 

a  '*  Did  you.  Sir,  throw  up  a  black  crow?" — "  Not  I !" 
'■'■  Bless  me  !  how  people  propagate  a  lie  ! 
Black  crows  have  been  thrown  up,  three,  two,  and  one. 
And  here  I  find  all  comes  at  last  to  no7ie  ! 
Did  you  say  nothing  of  a  crow  at  all  ?" 
"  Crow — crow — perhaps  I  might — now  I  recall 
The  matter  over" — "  And  pray,  Sir,  what  wasH  ?"— 
"  Why,  I  was  horrid  sick,  and  at  the  last, 
I  did  throw  up,  and  told  my  neighbor  so. 
Something  that  was  as  black.  Sir,  as  a  crow." 


LESSON  LXX. 

The  Voyage  of  Life. — Dr.  Johnson. 

1 .  *'  Life,"  says  Seneca,*  "  is  a  voyage,  in  the  progress  of 
which  we  are  perpetually  changing  our  scenes ;  we  first  leave 
childhood  behind  us,  then  youth,  then  the  years  of  ripened 
manhood,  then  the  better  and  more  pleasing  part  of  old  age." 

2.  The  perusal  of  this  passage  having  excited  in  me  a  train 
of  rehections  on  the  state  of  man,  the  incessant  fluctuation  of 
his  wisliea,  the  gradual  change  of  his  disposition  to  all  external 
objects,  and  the  thoughtlessness  w^th  which  he  floats  along  the 
stream  of  time,  I  sunk  into  a  slumber  amidst  my  meditations, 
and  on  a  J5udden,  found  my  ears  filled  with  a  tumult  of  labor, 
the  shonta  of  alacrity,  the  shrieks  of  alarm,  the  whistle  of  winds, 
and  the  daah  of  waters. 

3.  My  astonishment  for  a  time  repressed  my  curiosity ;  but 
soon  recovering  myself  so  far  as  to  inquire  whither  we  were 

*  Lucius  AnnseuB  Seneca,  a  celebrated  Stoic  philosopher,  and  tragic  poet, 
born  at  Corduba  m  Spain,  A.  D.  12.  He  was  tutor  to  the  tyrant  Nero, 
Emperor  of  RoB>e,  by  whom  be  was  cruelly  put  to  death,  A.  D,  65. 

12* 


138  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

going,  and  what  was  the  cause  of  such  clamor  and  confusion,  I 
was  told  that  we  were  launching  out  into  the  ocean  of  life,  that 
we  had  already  passed  the  straits  of  infancy,  in  which  multitudes 
had  perished,  some  by  the  weakness  and  fragility  of  their  ves- 
sels, and  more  by  the  folly,  perverseness,  or  negligence  of 
those  who  undertook  to  steer  them  ;  and  that  we  were  now  on 
the  main  sea,  abandoned  to  the  winds  and  billows,  without 
any  other  means  of  security  than  the  care  of  the  pilot,  whom 
it  was  always  in  our  power  to  choose  among  the  great  numbers 
that  offered  their  direction  and  assistance. 

4.  I  then  looked  round  with  anxious  eagerness,  and  first  turn- 
ing my  eyes  behind  me,  saw  a  stream  flowing  through  flowery 
islands,  which  every  one  that  sailed  along  seemed  to  behold 
with  pleasure,  but  no  sooner  touched,  than  the  current,  which, 
though  not  nois}'"  or  turbulent,  was  yet  irresistible,  bore  him 
away.  Beyond  these  islands,  all  was  darkness,  nor  could  any 
of  the  passengers  describe  the  shore  at  which  he  first  embarked. 

5.  Before  me,  and  on  each  side,  was  an  ex})anse  of  waters 
violently  agitated,  and  covered  v/illi  so  thick  a  mist,  that  the 
most  perspicacious*  eye  could  see  but  a  little  way.  It  appeared 
to  be  full  of  rocks  and  whirlpools ;  for  many  sunk  unexpectedly 
while  they  were  courting  the  gale  with  full  sails,  and  insulting 
those  whom  they  had  left  behind. 

6.  So  numerous  indeed  were  the  dangers,  and  so  thick  the 
darkness,  that  no  caution  could  confer  security.  Yet  there 
were  many,  who,  by  false  intelligence,  betrayed  their  followers 
into  whirlpools,  or  by  violence  pushed  those  whom  they  found 
in  their  way  against  the  rocks. 

7.  The  current  was  invariable  and  insurmountable ;  but 
though  it  was  impossible  to  sail  against  it,  or  to  return  to  the 
place  that  was  once  passed,  yet  it  was  not  so  violent  as  to  allow 
no  opportunities  for  dexterity  or  courage,  since,  though  none 
could  retreat  from  danger,  yet  they  might  avoid  it  by  oblique 
direction. 

8.  It  was  however  not  very  common  to  steer  with  much  care 
or  prudence  ;  for  by  some  universal  infatuation,  every  man  ap- 
peared to  think  himself  safe,  though  he  saw  his  consorts  every 
moment  sinking  around  him  ;  and  no  sooner  had  tht  waves 
closed  over  them,  than  their  fate  and  their  misconduct  were  for- 
gotten ;  the  voyage  was  pursued  with  the  same  jocund  confi- 
dence ;  every  man  congratulated  himself  upon  the  soundness  of 
his  vessel,  and  believed  himself  able  to  stem  the  whirlpool  in 

♦  Pronounced  per-spe-ca'-shus,  sharp-sighted. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  139 

which  his  friend  was  swallowed,  or  glide  over  the  rocks  on 
which  he  was  dashed  ;  nor  was  it  often  observed  that  the  sight 
of  a  wreck  made  any  man  change  his  course  ;  if  he  turned  aside 
for  a  moment,  he  soon  forgot  the  rudder,  and  left  himself  again 
to  the  disposal  of  chance. 

9.  This  negligence  did  not  proceed  from  indifference  or  from 
weariness  of  their  condition  ;  for  not  one  of  those,  who  thus 
rushed  upon  destruction,  failed,  when  he  was  sinking,  to  call 
loudly  upon  his  associates  for  that  help  which  could  not  now  be 
given  him ;  and  many  spent  their  last  moments  in  cautioning 
others  against  the  folly  by  which  they  were  intercepted  in  the 
midst  of  their  course.  Their  benevolence  was  sometimes  prais- 
ed, but  their  admonitions  were  unregarded. 

10.  In  the  midst  of  the  current  of  life  was  the  gulph  of  In- 
temperance, a  dreadful  whirlpool,  interspersed  with  rocks,  of 
which  the  pointed  crags  were  concealed  under  water,  ^nd  the 
tops  covered  with  herbage,  on  which  Ease  spread  couches  of 
repose,  and  with  shades  where  Pleasure  warbled  the  song  of  in- 
vitation. Within  sight  of  these  rocks  all  who  sailed  on  the 
ocean  of  life  must  necessarily  pass. 

11.  Reason,  indeed,  was  always  at  hand  to  steer  the  passen- 
gers through  a  narrow  outlet  by  which  they  might  escape  ;  but 
few  could,  by  her  entreaties  or  remonstrances,  be  induced  to 
put  the  rudder  into  her  hand,  without  stipulating  that  she  should 
approach  so  near  unto  the  rocks  of  Pleasure,  that  they  might 
solace  themselves  with  a  short  enjoyment  of  that  delicious 
region,  after  which  they  always  determined  to  pursue  their 
course  without  any  other  deviation. 

12.  Reason  was  too  often  prevailed  upon  so  far,  by  these 
promises,  as  to  venture  her  charge  within  the  eddy  of  the  gulph 
of  intemperance,  wher©,  indeed,  the  circumvolution  was  weak, 
but  yet  interrupted  the  course  of  the  vessel,  and  drew  it  by 
insensible  rotations  towards  the  centre.  She  then  repented  her 
temerity,  and  with  all  her  force  endeavored  to  retreat ;  but  the 
draught  of  the  gulph  was  generally  too  strong  to  be  overcome; 
and  the  passenger,  having  danced  in  circles  with  a  pleasing  and 
giddy  velocity,  was  at  last  overwhelmed  and  lost. 

13.  As  I  was  looking  upon  the  various  fate  of  the  multitude 
about  me,  I  was  suddenly  alarmed  with  an  admonition  from 
some  unknown  Power:  "Gaze  not  idly  upon  others,  when 
thou  thyself  art  sinking.  Whence  is  this  thoughtless  tranquil- 
lity, when  thou  and  they  are  equally  endangered  ?"  I  looked, 
and  seeing  the  gulph  of  Intemperance  before  me,  started  and 
awoke. 


140  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR, 

LESSON  LXXI. 

The  journey  of  a  day ;  a  picture  of  human  life — Dr.  Johnson. 

L  Obidah,  the  son  of  Abensina,  left  the  caravansary*  early 
in  the  morning,  and  pursued  his  journey  through  the  plains  of 
Hindoostan.  He  was  fresh  and  vigorous  with  rest ;  he  was 
animated  with  hope ;  he  was  incited  by  desire ;  he  w^alked 
swiftly  forward  over  the  vallies,  and  saw  the  hills  gradually 
rising  before  him. 

2.  As  he  passed  along,  his  ears  were  delighted  with  the 
morning  song  of  the  bird  of  paradise ;  he  was  fanned  by  the 
last  flutters  of  the  sinking  breeze,  and  sprinkled  with  dew  by 
groves  of  spices.  He  sometimes  contemplated  the  towering 
heightf  of  the  oak,  monarch  of  the  hills  ;  and  sometimes  caught 
tlie  gentle  fragrance  of  the  primrose,  eldest  daughter  of  the 
spring :  all  his  senses  were  gratified,  and  all  care  was  banished 
from  his  heart, 

3.  Thus  he  went  on,  till  the  sun  approached  his  meridian, 
and  the  increasing  heat  preyed  upon  his  strength  ;  he  then  look- 
ed round  about  him  for  some  more  commodious  path.  He  saw, 
on  his  right  hand,  a  grove  that  seemed  to  wave  its  shades  as  a 
sign  of  invitation ;  he  entered  it,  and  found  the  coolness  and 
verdure  irresistibly  pleasant. 

4.  He  did  not,  however,  forget  whither  he  was  travelling: 
but  found  a  narrow  way  bordered  with  flowers,  which  appeared 
to  have  the  same  direction  with  the  main  road  ;  and  was  pleas- 
ed, that,  by  tliis  happy  experiment,  he  had  found  means  to  unite 
pleasure  with  business,  and  to  gain  the  rewards  of  diligence 
without  suflbring  its  fatigues. 

5.  He,  therefore,  still  continued  to  walk  for  a  time,  without 
the  least  remission  of  his  ardor,  except  that  he  was  sometimes 
tempted  to  stop  by  the  music  of  the  birds,  which  the  heat  had 
assembled  in  the  shade  ;  and  sometimes  amused  himself  with 
plucking  the  flowers  that  covered  the  banks  on  either  side,  or 
the  fruits  that  hung  upon  the  branches.  At  last,  the  green 
path  began  to  decline  from  its  first  tendency,  and  to  wind  among 
the  hills  and  thickets,  cooled  with  fountains,  and  murmuring 
with  waterfalls. 

(».  Here  Obidah  paused  for  a  time,  and  began  to  consider 
whether  it  were  longer  safe  to  forsake  the  known  and  common 
track ;  but  remembering  that  the  heat  was  now  in  its  greatest 
violence,  and  that  the  plain  was  dusty  and  uneven,  he  resolved 

•  A  public  inn,  or  tavern.  t  Pronounced  hite. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  141 

to  pursue  the  new  path,  which  he  supposed  only  to  make  a  few 
meanders,*  in  compliance  with  the  varieties  of  the  ground,  and 
to  end  at  last  in  the  common  road. 

7.  HaAdng  thus  calmed  his  solicitude,  he  renewed  his  pace, 
though  he  suspected  that  he  was  not  gaining  ground.  This  im- 
easiness  of  his  mind  inclined  him  to  lay  hold  on  e\^ery  new 
object,  and  give  way  to  every  sensation  that  might  soothe  or 
divert  him.  He  listened  to  every  echo  ;  he  mounted  every  hill 
for  a  fresh  prospect ;  he  turned  aside  to  every  cascade ;  and 
pleased  himself  with  tracing  the  course  of  a  gentle  river  that 
rolled  among  the  trees,  and  watered  a  large  region  with  innu- 
merable circumvolutions. 

8.  In  these  amusements,  the  hours  passed  away  unaccounted ; 
his  deviations  had  perplexed  his  memory,  and  he  knew  not 
towards  what  point  to  travel.  He  stood  pensive  and  confused, 
afraid  to  go  forward,  lest  he  should  go  wrong ;  yet  conscious 
that  the  time  of  loitering  was  noAv  past.  While  he  was  thus 
tortured  with  uncertainty,  the  sky  was  overspread  with  clouds  ; 
the  day  vanished  from  before  him  ;  and  a  sudden  tempest  gath- 
ered round  his  head. 

9.  He  was  now  roused  by  his  danger  to  a  quick  and  painful 
remembrance  of" his  folly;  he  now  saw  how  happiness  is  lost 
when  ease  is  consulted ;  he  lamented  the  unmanly  impatience 
that  prompted  him  to  seek  shelter  in  the  grove ;  and  despised 
the  petty  curiosity  that  led  him  on  from  trifle  to  trifle.  While 
he  was  thus  reflecting,  the  air  grew  blacker,  and  a  clap  of  thun- 
der broke  his  meditation. 

10.  He  now  resolved  to  do  what  yet  remained  in  his  power, 
to  tread  back  the  ground  which  he  had  passed,  and  try  to  find 
some  issue  where  the  wood  might  open  into  the  plain.  He 
prostrated  himself  on  the  ground,  and  recommended  his  life  to 
the  Lord  of  nature.  He  rose  with  confidence  and  tranquillity, 
and  pressed  on  with  resolution.  The  beasts  of  the  desert  were 
in  motion,  and  on  every  hand  were  heard  the  mingled  howls  of 
rage  and  fear,  and  ravage  and  expiration.  All  the  horrors  of 
darkness  and  solitude  surrounded  him  :  the  winds  roared  in  the 
woods ;  and  the  torrents  tumbled  from  the  hills. 

11.  Thus  forlorn  and  distressed,  he  wandered  through  the 
wild,  without  knowing  whither  he  was  going,  or  whether  he 
was  every  moment  drawing  nearer  to  safety,  or  to  destruction. 
At  length,  not  fear,  but  labor,  began  to  overcome  him ;  hm 
breath  grew  short,  and  his  knees  trembled  ;  and  he  was  on  the 


Meander,  the  name  of  a  winding  river  in  Phrygia— a  windijig  course. 


113  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

point  of  Ipno^  down  in  resignation  to  his  fate,  when  he  beheld, 
through  the  brambles,  the  glimmer  of  a  taper. 

12.  He  advanced  towards  the  light ;  and  finding  that  it  pro- 
ceeded from  the  cottage  of  a  hermit,  he  called  humbly  at  the 
door  and  obtained  admission.  The  old  man  set  before  him  such 
provisions  as  he  had  collected  for  himself,  on  which  Obidah 
fed  with  eagerness  and  gratitude. 

13.  When  the  repast  was  over,  "  tell  me,"  said  the  hermit, 
"by  what  chance  thou  hast  been  brought  hither?  I  have  been 
now  twenty  years  an  inhabitant  of  the  wilderness,  in  which  I 
never  saw  a  man  before."  Obidah  then  related  the  occurrences 
of  his  journey,  without  any  concealment  or  palliation. 

14.  "  Son,"  said  the  hermit,  "  let  the  errors  and  follies,  the 
dangers  and  escape  of  this  day,  sink  deep  into  thy  heart.  Re- 
member, my  son,  that  human  life  is  the  journey  of  a  day.  We 
rise  in  the  morning  of  youth,  full  of  vigor,  and  full  of  expecta- 
tion ;  we  set  forward  with  spirit  and  hope,  and  travel  on  a  while 
w^ith  gaiety  and  with  diligence. 

15.  "  In  a  short  time,  we  remit  our  fervor,  and  endeavor  to 
find  some  mitigation  of  our  duty,  and  some  more  easy  means 
of  obtaining  the  same  end.  We  then  relax  our  vigor,  and  re- 
solve no  longer  to  be  terrified  with  crimes  at  a  distance  ;  but 
rely  upon  our  ow^n  constancy,  and  venture  to  approach  what 
we  resolve  never  to  touch.  We  thus  enter  the  bowers  of  ease, 
and  repose  in  the  shades  of  security. 

16.  "  Here  the  heart  softens,  and  vigilance  subsides ;  we 
are  then  willing  to  enquire  whether  another  advance  cannot  be 
made,  and  whether  we  may  not,  at  least,  turn  our  eyes  upon 
the  gardens  of  pleasure.  We  approach  them  with  scruple  and 
hesitation  ;  we  enter  them,  but  enter  timorous  and  trembling  ; 
and  always  hope  to  pass  through  them  without  losing  the  road 
of  virtue,  which  for  a  while,  we  keep  in  our  sight,  and  to  whicli 
we  purpose  to  return.  But  temptation  succeeds  temptation, 
and  one  compliance  prepares  us  for  another ;  we  in  time  lose 
the  happiness  of  innocence,  and  solace  our  disquiet  with  sensual 
gratifications. 

17.  "  By  degrees,  we  let  fall  the  remembrance  of  our  original 
intention,  and  quit  the  only  adequate  object  of  rational  desire. 
We  entangle  ourself  in  business,  immerge  ourselves  in  luxury, 
and  rove  through  the  labyrinths  of  inconstancy  ;  till  the  dark- 
ness of  old  age  begins  to  invade  us,  and  disease  and  anxiety 
obstruct  our  way.  We  then  look  back  upon  our  lives  with 
horror,  with  sorrow,  with  repentance  ;  and  wish,  but  too  often 
vainly  wish,  that  we  had  not  forsaken  the  ways  of  virtue." 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  143 

18.  "  Happy  are  they,  ray  son,  who  shall  learn  from  thy 
example,  not  to  despair ;  but  shall  remember,  that,  though  the 
day  is  past,  and  their  strength  is  wasted,  there  yet  remains  one 
effort  to  be  made  :  that  reformation  is  never  hopeless,  nor  sin- 
cere endeavors  ever  unassisted ;  that  the  M^anderer  may  at 
length  return  after  all  his  errors ;  and  that  he  who  implores 
strength  and  courage  from  above,  shall  find  danger  and  difficul- 
ty give  way  before  him.  Go  now,  my  son,  to  thy  repose ; 
commit  thyself  to  the  care  of  omnipotence ;  and  when  the 
morning  calls  again  to  toil,  begin  anew  thy  journey  and  thy 


LESSON  LXXII. 

The  Mummy* — Smith. 

1.  And  thou  hast  vvalk'd  about  (how  strange  a  story  !) 

In  Thebes't  streets  three  thousand  years  ago. 
When  the  Memnonium|  was  in  all  its  glory, 

And  time  had  not  begun  to  overthrow 
Those  temples,  palaces,  and  piles  stupendous, 
Of  which  the  very  ruins  are  tremendous. 

2.  Speak !  for  thou  long  enough  has  acted  Dummy, 

Thou  hast  a  tongue — come  let  us  hear  its  tune  : 
Thou'rt  standing  on  thy  legs,  above  ground,  Mummy  ! 

Revisiting  the  glimpses  of  the  moon. 
Not  like  thin  ghosts  or  disembodied  creatures, 
But  with  thy  bones  and  flesh,  and  limbs  and  features. 

*  Mummy,  a  human  body  embalmed,  and  wrapped  up  in  linen  cloaths 
impregnated  with  gums,  wax,  &c.  to  prevent  its  decaying.  Mummies  are 
found  in  Egypt,  a  short  distance  from  Cairo,  in  vaulted  rooms  under  ground, 
cut  in  quarries  of  white  stone.  They  are  deposited,  some  in  stone  tombs, 
others  in  chests  or  coffins  made  of  sicamore  wood,  which  are  oflen  adorned 
with  many  hi-e-ro-glyph-ics,  representing  the  qualities  and  actions  of  the 
deceased.     They  are  supposed  to  be  more  than  3,000  years  old. 

t  Thebes,  an  ancient  city  of  Egypt,  situated  on  both  sides  of  the  Nile, 
about  360  miles  south  of  Cairo.  Homer  speaks  of  it  as  the  city  of  an  hun- 
dred gates ;  and  Strabo,  a  writer  of  the  first  century,  states  that  its  length 
was  then  10  miles.  But  the  glory  of  Thebes,  belongs  to  a  period  prior  to 
the  commencement  of  authentic  history.  Some  suppose  it  to  have  been  built 
by  Osiris,  and  others,  by  Busiris,  while  others  think  it  more  ancient.  It  is 
now  inhabited  by  about  3,000  Arabs,  v/ho  have  taken  up  their  abode  among 
its  magnificent  ruins. 

t  Mem-no' -ni-um,  a  statue  of  Memnon,  king  of  Ethiopia,  which  had  the  pro- 
perty of  uttering  a  melodious  sound  at  sun-rising. 


144  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

3.  Tell  us — for  doubtless  thou  canst  recollect, 

To  whom  should  we  assign  the  sphinx's  fame  ? 
Was  Cheops  or  Cephrenes  architect 

Of  either  Pyramid*  that  bears  his  name  ? 
Is  Pompey's  pillar  really  a  misnomer  ? 
Had  Thebes  a  hundred  gates,  as  sung  by  Homer  ?t 

4.  Perhaps  thou  wert  a  Mason,  and  forbidden 

By  oath  to  tell  the  mysteries  of  thy  trade, 
Then  say  what  secret  melody  was  hidden 

In  Memnon's  statue  which  at  sunrise  played  ? 
Perhaps  thou  wert  a  Priest — if  so,  my  struggles 
Are  vain  ; — Egyptian  priests  ne'er  owned  their  juggles. 

5.  Perchance  that  very  hand,  now  pinioned  flat, 

Has  hob-a-nobb'd  v/ith  Pharaoh];  glass  to  glass ; 
Or  dropped  a  halfpenny  in  Homer's  hat, 

Or  doffed  thine  own  to  let  Queen  Dido||  pass, 
Or  held,  by  Solomon's  own  invitation, 
A  torch  at  the  great  Temple's  dedication. 

6.  I  need  not  ask  thee  if  that  hand,  when  armed, 

Has  any  Roman  soldier  mauled  and  knuckled. 
For  thon  wert  dead,  and  buried,  and  embalmed. 

Ere  Romulus  and  Remus^  had  been  suckled  : — 
Antiquity  appears  to  have  begun 
Long  after  thy  primeval  race  Avas  run. 

7.  Since  first  thy  form  was  in  this  box  extended, 

We  have,  above  ground,  seen  some  strange  mutations; 
The  Roman  empire  has  begun  and  LMided ; 

New  worlds  have  risen — we  have  lost  old  nations. 
And  countless  kings  have  into  dust  been  humbled. 
While  not  a  fragment  of  thy  flesh  has  crumbled. 

*  Pyr-a-mid,  a  large,  solid  bod\^,  or  edifico,  standing  on  a  square  or  trian- 
gular base,  and  terminating  in  a  point  at  the  top.  The  Pyramids  of  Egypt 
have  been  the  wonder  of  all  ages  of  the  world.  The  largest  of  them  is  that 
of  Cheops,  near  Cairo.  It  is  500  feet  high,  and  covers  more  than  11  acres. 
When,   and  for  what  purpose  they  were  built,  is  unknown. 

t  Homer,  a  celebrated  Grecian  poet,  who  lived  about  007  B.  C. 

t  Pronounced  Fa'-ro,  an  ancient  king  of  Egypt. 

li  Dido,  founder  of  the  Carthaginian  Empire,  869  B.  C. 

§  Romulus  and  Remus,  founders  of  the  Roman  Empire,  752  B.  C.  They 
were  thrown,  when  infants,  into  the  Tiber,  but  the  river  stopped,  and  a  she- 
wolf  came  and  fed  them  with  her  milk. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  145 

8.  Didst  thou  not  hear  the  pother  o'er  thy  head 

When  the  great  Persian  conqueror,  Cambyses,* 
March'd  armies  o'er  thy  tomb  with  thundering  tread, 

O'erthrew  Osiris,t  Orus,t  Apis,t  Isis,t 
And  shook  the  Pyramids  with  fear  and  wonder, 

When  the  gigantic  Memnon  fell  asunder. 

9.  If  the  tomb's  secrets  may  not  be  confessed. 

The  nature  of  thy  private  life  unfold  ; — 
A  heart  has  throbb'd  beneath  that  leathern  breast, 

And  tears  adown  that  dusky  cheek  have  rolled  : — 
Have  children  climb'd  those  knees,  and  kiss'd  that  face  ? 
What  was  thy  name  and  station,  age  and  race  ? 

10.  Statue  of  flesh — immortal  of  the  dead  ! 
Imperishable  type  of  evanescence  ! 

Posthumous  man,  who  quitt'st  thy  narrow  bed, 
And  standest  undecayed  within  our  presence, 
Thou  wilt  hear  nothing  till  the  Judgment  morning, 
When  the  great  trump  shall  thrill  thee  with  its  warning. 

11.  Why  should  this  worthless  tegument  endure, 
If  its  undying  guest  be  lost  for  ever  ? 

O  let  us  keep  the  soul  embalmed  and  pure 

In  living  virtue  ;  that  when  both  must  sever, 
Although  corruption  may  our  frame  consume, 
Th'  immortal  spirit  in  the  skies  may  bloom. 


LESSON  LXXIII. 

The  Negroes  Complaint, — Cowper. 

1.  Forc'd  from  home  and  all  its  pleasures, 

Afric's  coast  I  left  forlorn  ; 
To  increase  a  stranger's  treasures, 

O'er  the  raging  billows  borne. 
Men  from  England  bought  and  sold  me. 

Paid  my  price  in  paltry  gold ; 
But  though  slave  they  have  enroll'd  me, 

Minds  are  never  to  be  sold. 

♦  Cambyses,  the  son  of  Cyrus  the  Great,  was  king  of  Persia,  B.  C.  529. 
He  made  war  against  the  Egyptians,  and  ravaged  their  country  in  a  most 
barbarous  manner.  He  was  cruel  and  vindictive  in  the  extreme.  He  died 
in  the  eighth  year  of  his  reign,  B.  C.  521. 

t  An  Egyptian  god. 

13 


146  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

2.  Still  in  thought  as  free-  as  ever, 

What  are  England's  rights  I  ask, 
Me  from  my  delights  to  sever, 

Me  to  torture,  me  to  task  ? 
Fleecy  locks  and  black  complexion 

Cannot  forfeit  nature's  claim  ; 
Skins  may  differ,  but  affection 

Dwells  in  white  and  black  the  same. 

3.  Why  did  all-creating  nature 

Make  the  plant  for  which  we  toil  ? 
Sighs  must  fan  it,  tears  must  water. 

Sweat  of  ours  must  dress  the  soil. 
Think,  ye  masters,  iron-hearted. 

Lolling  at  your  jovial  boards  ; 
Think  how  many  backs  have  smarted 

For  the  sweets  your  cane  affords. 

4.  Is  there,  as  ye  sometimes  tell  us. 

Is  there  one  who  reigns  on  high  ? 
Has  he  bid  you  buy  and  sell  us, 

Speaking  from  his  throne,  the  sky  ? 
Ask  him,  if  your  knotted  scourges. 

Matches,  blood-extorting  screws, 
Are  the  means  that  duty  urges, 

Agents  of  his  will  to  use  ? 

5.  Hark !  he  answers — wild  tornadoes,* 

Strewing  yonder  sea  with  wrecks  ; 
Wasting  towns,  plantations,  meadows, 

Are  the  voice  with  which  he  speaks. 
He,  foreseeing  what  vexations 

Afric's  sons  should  undergo, 
Fix'd  their  tyrants'  habitations 

Where  his  whirlwinds  answer — No. 

6.  By  our  blood  in  Afric  wasted, 

Ere  our  necks  receiv'd  the  chain ; 
By  the  mis'ries  that  we  tasted. 

Crossing  in  your  barks  the  main ; 
By  our  sufferings  since  ye  brought  us 

To  the  man-degrading  mart ; 
All  sustain'd  by  patience,  taught  us 

Only  by  a  broken  heart. 

*  Tornado,  a  violent  wind,  a  hurricane. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  147 

7.  Deem  our  nation  brutes  no  longer, 

Till  some  reason  ye  shall  find 
Worthier  of  regard,  and  stronger 

Than  the  color  of  our  kind. 
Slaves  of  gold,  whose  sordid  dealings 

Tarnish  all  your  boasted  pow'rs, 
Prove  that  you  have  human  feelings, 

Ere  you  proudly  question  ours. 


LESSON  LXXIV. 

Victory. — Anonymous. 

1.  Waft  not  to  me  the  blast  of  fame, 

That  swells  the  trump  of  victory  ; 
For  to  my  ear  it  gives  the  name 
Of  slaughter  and  of  misery. 

2.  Boast  not  so  much  of  honor's  sword ; 

Wave  not  so  high  the  victor's  plume ; 
They  point  me  to  the  bosom  gor'd — 

They  point  me  to  the  blood-stain'd  tomb. 

3.  The  boastful  sliout,  the  revel  loud, 

That  strive  to  drown  the  voice  of  pain ; 
What  are  they,  but  the  fickle  crowd, 
Rejoicing  o'er  their  brethren  slain  ? 

4.  And  ah !  through  glory's  fading  blaze, 

I  see  the  cottage  taper,  pale. 
Which  siieds  its  faint  and  feeble  rays, 
Where  unprotected  orphans  wail — 

5.  Where  the  sad  widow  weeping  stands, 

As  if  her  day  of  hope  was  done — 
Where  the  wild  mother  clasps  her  hands- 
And  asks  the  victor  for  her  son — 

6.  Where  the  lone  maid,  in  secret,  sighs 

O'er  the  lost  solace  of  her  heart, 
As  prostrate,  in  despair,  she  lies, 
And  feels  her  tortur'd  life  depart ! 

7.  Where,  midst  that  desolated  land. 

The  sire,  lamenting  o'er  his  son. 
Extends  his  weak  and  powerless  hand,       •-> 
And  finds  his  only  prop  is  gone. 


148  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

8.  See,  how  the  bands  of  war  and  wo 
Have  rifled  sweet  domestic  bliss ; 
And  tell  me,  if  your  laurels  grow, 
And  flourish  in  a  soil  like  this  ! 


LESSON  LXXV. 

Destruction  of  Jerusalem* 
\.  Jerusalem  was  built  on  two  mountains,  and  surrounded 
by  three  walls  on  every  side,  except  where  it  was  enclosed  with 
deep  valleys,  which  were  deemed  inaccessible.  Each  wall  was 
fortified  by  high  towers.  The  celebrated  temple,  and  strong 
castle  of  Antonia,  were  on  the  east  side  of  the  city,  and  directly 
opposite  to  the  Mount  of  Olives.  But  notwithstanding  the  pro- 
digious strength  of  this  famed  metropolis,  the  infatuated  Jews 
brought  on  their  own  destruction  by  their  intestine  contests. 

2.  At  a  time  when  a  formidable  army  was  rapidly  advancing, 
and  the  Jews  were  assembling  from  all  parts  to  keep  the  pass- 
over,  the  contending  factions  were  continually  inventing  new 
methods  of  mutual  destruction,  and  in  their  ungoverned  fury 
they  wasted  and  destroyed  such  vast  quantities  of  provisions  as 
might  have  preserved  the  city  many  years. 

3.  Such  was  the  miserable  situation  of  Jerusalem,  when 
Titust  began  his  march  towards  it  with  a  formidable  army ;  and 

*  Moses  led  the  Jews  out  of  Ecrypt,  1491  B.  C.  They  wandered  40  years 
in  the  wilderness,  and  entered  the  land  of  Canaan,  or  PeJesthic,  under  Joshua, 
1451  B.  C.  After  the  death  of  Joshua,  which  happened  1426  B.  C,  they 
were  governed  351  years  by  Judges,  when  they  wished  for  a  king.  Saul 
•was  chosen,  and  anointed  king  over  them  1075  B.  C.  He  was  succeeded 
by  David  in  1056  B.  C.  David  was  succeeded  by  Solomon  in  1015  B.  C. 
Solomon  was  succeeded  by  Rehoboam  975  B.  C.  The  same  year,  ten  ot 
the  Jewish  tribes  revolted,  and  established  the  kingdom  of  Israel,  and  chose 
Jeroboam  for  their  king.  In  7'21  B.  C.  Shalmanescr,  of  Assyria,  conquered 
the  ten  tribes  and  carried  them  into  captivity,  which  put  an  end  to  the  king- 
dom of  Israel.  The  two  tribes,  viz.  the  tribes  of  Judah  and  Benjamin,  form- 
ed the  kingdom  of  Judah.  They  were  oft^en  conquered  by  the  surrounding 
nations,  but  soon  regained  their  liberty.  In  63  B.  C.  Pompey,  a  celebrated 
Roman  General,  marched  an  army  against  Jerusalem,  and  took  it,  after  a 
siege  of  three  months.  From  that  period,  the  Jews  became  dependent  on  the 
Romans: — and  after  the  death  of  Herod  the  Great,  in  A.  D.  1,  Judea  be- 
came a  Roman  province,  and  had  rulers  appointed  by  the  Emperors  of  Rome. 
The  rapine  and  cruelty  of  the  Roman  governors,  caused  the  Jews  at  length 
to  rebel ; — and  Titus,  a  Roman  General,  marched  an  army  of  60,000  men 
against  them,  A.  D.  70,  and  destroyed  the  Jewish  nation.  From  that  time, 
the  Jews  have  been  scattered,  contemned,  persecuted,  and  despised  among 
all  nations. 

t  Titus  V^pasian,  a  distinguished  Roman  general — afterwards  emperor 
of  Rome.    He  died  A.  D.  81. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  149 

having  laid  waste  the  country  in  his  progress,  and  slaughtered 
the  inhabitants,  arrived  before  its  walls.  The  sight  of  the 
Romans  produced  a  temporary  reconciliation  among  the  con- 
tending factions,  and  they  unanimously  resolved  to  oppose  the 
common  enemy. 

4.  Their  first  sally  was  accordingly  made  with  such  fury  and 
resolution,  that,  though  Titus  displayed  uncommon  valor  on  this 
occasion,  the  besiegers  were  obliged  to  abandon  their  camps,  and 
flee  to  the  mountains.  No  sooner  had  the  Jews  a  short  interval 
of  quiet  from  their  foreign  enemies,  than  their  civil  disorders 
were  renewed.  John,  by  an  impious  stratagem,  found  means 
to  cut  off,  or  force  Eleazer's  men  to  submit  to  him ;  and  the 
factions  were  again  reduced  to  two,  who  opposed  each  other 
with  implacable  animosity. 

5.  The  Romans,  in  the  mean  time,  exerted  all  their  energy 
in  making  preparations  for  a  powerful  attack  upon  Jerusalem. 
Trees  were  cut  down,  houses  levelled,  rocks  cleft  asunder,  and 
valleys  filled  up;  towers  were  raised,  and  battering  rams  erected, 
with  other  engines  of  destruction,  against  the  devoted  city. 

6.  After  the  offers  of  peace,  which  Titus  had  repeatedly  sent 
by  Josephus,*  were  rejected  with  indignation,  the  Romans  be- 
gan to  play  their  engines  with  all  their  might.  The  strenuous 
attacks  of  the  enemy  again  united  the  contending  parties  within 
the  walls,  who  had  also  engines,  which  they  plied  with  uncom- 
mon fury.  They  had  taken  them  lately  from  Cestius,  but  were 
so  ignorant  of  their  use,  they  did  little  execution,  while  the 
Roman  legions  made  terrible  havoc. 

7.  The  Jews  were  soon  compelled  to  retire  from  the  ponder- 
ous stones,  which  the  Romans  threw  incessantly  from  the  towers 
they  had  erected,  and  the  battering  rams  were  at  full  liberty  to 
play  against  the  walls.  A  breach  was  soon  made  in  it,  at  which 
the  Romans  entered  and  encamped  in  the  city,  while  the  Jews 
retreated  behind  the  second  enclosure. 

8.  The  victors  immediately  advanced  to  the  second  wall, 
and  plied  their  engines  and  battering  rams  so  furiously,  that 
one  of  the  towers  they  had  erected  began  to  shake,  and  the 
Jews,  who  occupied  it,  perceiving  their  impending  ruin,  set  it 

*  Flavius  Josephus,  the  ancient  historian  of  the  Jews,  was  bom  at  Jeru- 
salem, A.  D.  37^  and  died  in  A.  D.  93.  He  studied  at  Rome,  and  after- 
wards bravely  defended  a  small  town  of  Judea  against  the  Romans  for  seven 
weeks.  The  place  being  taken,  Josephus  delivered  himself  up  to  the  Ra- 
mans, and  was  received  into  great  favor,  and  accompanied  Titus  at  the  siege 
of  Jerusalem,  where  he  alleviated  the  raiafortunes  of  his  country,  and  ob- 
tained the  sacred  books  of  his  nation. 

13* 


150  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

on  fire,  and  precipitated  themselves  into  the  flames.  The  fall 
of  this  structure  gave  the  Romans  an  entrance  into  the  second 
enclosure. 

9.  They  were,  however,  repulsed  by  the  besieged ;  but  at 
length  regained  the  place  entirely,  and  prepared  for  attacking 
the  third  and  inner  wall.  The  vast  number  of  people  which 
were  enclosed  in  Jerusalem,  occasioned  a  famine,  which  raged 
in  a  terrible  manner ;  and,  as  their  calamities  increased,  the 
fury  of  the  zealots,*  if  possible,  rose  to  a  greater  height. 

10.  They  forced  open  the  houses  of  their  fellow  citizens,  in 
search  of  pro\dsions  ;  if  they  found  any,  they  inflicted  the  most 
exquisite  tortures  upon  them,  under  pretence  that  they  had  food 
concealed.  The  nearest  relations,  in  the  extremity  of  hunger, 
snatched  the  food  from  each  other. 

11.  Josephus,  who  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  unparalleled 
sufferings  the  Jews  experienced  during  the  siege  of  their  metro- 
polis, remarks,  that  "all  the  calamities  that  ever  befelany  nation 
since  the  beginning  of  the  world,  were  inferior  to  the  miseries  o 
his  countrymen  at  this  awful  period."  Thus  we  see  the  exact 
fulfilment  of  the  em])hatic  words  of  our  Saviour  respecting  the 
great  tribulation  in  Jerusalem.  '-'•For  then  shall  he  great  trihu- 
latio7i,  svch  as  was  not  since  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  this 
timCy  no,  nor  ever  shall  Se." 

12.  Titus,  M-ho  was  apprized  of  their  wretched  condition, 
relaxed  the  siege  four  days ;  and  being  still  desirous  of  saving 
the  city,  caused  provisions  to  be  distributed  to  his  army  in  sight 
of  the  Jews,  who  flocked  upon  the  walls  to  beliold  it.  Josephus 
was  next  sent  to  his  countrymen,  to  attempt  to  persuade  tliem 
not  to  plunge  themselves  in  inevitable  ruin,  by  persisting  in 
defence  of  a  place  which  could  hold  out  but  little  longer,  and 
which  the  Romans  looked  upon  as  already  their  own. 

13.  He  exhorted  them,  in  the  most  pathetic  terms,  to  save 
themselves,  their  temple,  and  their  country  ;  and  painted  in 
strong  colors  the  fatal  effects  which  would  result  from  their 
obstinacy.  But  the  people,  after  many  bitter  invectives,  began 
to  dart  their  arrows  at  him  ;  yet  he  continued  to  ad(h*ess  them 
with  greater  vehemence,  and  many  were  induced,  by  his  elo- 
quence, to  run  the  utmost  risk  in  order  to  escape  to  the  Romans ; 
w  hile  others  became  more  desperate,  and  resolved  to  hold  out 
to  the  last  extremity. 

14.  The  Jews,  who  were  forcibly  seized  by  the  Romans 
without  the  walls,  and  who  made  the  utmost  resistance  for  fear 

*  Zealot,  one  who  engages  warmly  in  a  cause,  and  pursues  it  with  an  in- 
temperate ardor. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  151 

of  punishment,  were  scourged  and  crucified  near  the  city. — 
Famine  made  them  so  daring  in  these  excursions,  that  five 
hundred,  and  sometimes  more,  suffered  this  dreadful  death  every 
day  ;  and,  on  account  of  the  number,  Josephus  observes,  that 
"space  was  wanted  for  the  crosses,  and  crosses  for  the  captives.'* 
And  yet,  contrary  to  Titus'  intention,  the  seditious  Jews  were 
not  disposed  to  surrender  by  these  horrid  spectacles. 

15.  In  order  to  check  desertion,  they  represented  the  suffer- 
ers as  suppliants,  and  not  as  men  taken  by  resistance.  Yet 
even  some,  who  deemed  capital  punishment  inevitable,  escaped 
to  the  Romans,  considering  death,  by  the  handsof  their  enemies, 
a  desirable  refuge,  when  compared  with  the  complicated  distress 
which  they  endured. 

16.  And  though  Titus  mutilated  many,  and  sent  them  to 
assure  the  people  that  voluntary  deserters  were  well  treated  by 
him,  and  earnestly  to  recommend  a  surrender  of  the  city,  the 
Jews  reviled  Titus  from  the  walls,  defied  his  menaces,  and 
continued  to  defend  the  city  by  every  method  which  stratagem, 
courage,  and  despair,  could  suggest. 

17.  In  order  to  accelerate  the  destined  ruin  of  Jerusalem, 
Titus,  discouraged  and  exasperated  by  the  repeated  destruction 
of  his  engines  and  towers,  undertook  the  arduous  task  of  en- 
closing the  city  with  a  strong  wall,  in  order  to  prevent  the 
inhabitants  from  receiving  any  succor  from  the  adjacent  coun- 
try, or  eluding  his  vengeance  by  flight. 

18.  Such  was  the  persevering  spirit  of  the  soldiers,  that  in 
three  days  they  enclosed  the  city  by  a  wall  nearly  five  miles  in 
circuit.  Thus  was  the  prophecy  of  our  Saviour  accomplished : 
"  The  days  shall  come  upon  thee,  when  thine  enemies  shall 
cast  a  trench  about  thee,  and  compass  thee  round,  and  keep 
thee  in  on  every  sidc.''^ 

19.  Upon  this,  the  famine  raged  with  augmented  violence, 
and  destroyed  whole  families ;  while  Jerusalem  exhibited  a 
horrid  spectacle  of  emaciated  invalids  and  putrescent  bodies. 
The  dead  were  too  numerous  to  be  interred  ;  and  many  expir- 
ed in  the  performance  of  this  office.  The  public  calamity  M^as 
too  great  for  lamentation,  and  the  silence  of  unutterable  wo 
overspread  the  city. 

20.  The  zealots,  at  this  awful  period,  endeavored  to  encour- 
age the  obstinacy  of  the  people,  by  hiring  a  set  of  wretches, 
pretenders  to  prophecy,  to  go  about  the  city,  and  declare  the 
near  approach  of  a  speedy  and  miraculous  deliverance.  This 
impious  stratagem  for  a  while  afforded  delusive  hopes  to  the 
miserable  remains  of  the  Je\vdsh  nation.     But  at  length  an 


152  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

affair  took  place  in  Jerusalem,  which  filled  the  inhabitants  with 
consternation  and  despair ;  and  the  Romans  with  horror  and 
indignation. 

21.  A  Jewess,  eminent  for  birth  and  opulence,  rendered 
frantic  with  her  sufferings,  was  reduced  to  the  dreadful  ex- 
tremity of  killing  and  feeding  upon  her  infant.  Titus,  being 
apprized  of  this  inhuman  deed,  swore  the  total  extirpation  of 
the  accursed  city  and  people ;  and  called  heaven  to  witness, 
that  he  was  not  the  author  of  their  calamity. 


LESSON  LXXVL 
Destruction  of  Jerusalem — concluded. 

1.  The  Romans  having  pursued  the  attack  with  the  utmost 
rigor,  advanced  their  last  engines  against  the  walls,  after  having 
converted  into  a  desert,  for  wood  to  construct  them,  a  country 
well  planted,  and  interspersed  with  gardens,  for  more  than 
eleven  miles  round  the  city.  They  scaled  the  inner  wall,  and 
after  a  sanguinary  encounter,  made  themselves  masters  of  the 
fortress  of  Antonia. 

2.  Still,  however,  not  only  the  zealots,  but  many  of  the 
people,  were  yet  so  blinded,  that  though  nothing  was  now  left 
but  the  temple,  and  the  Romans  were  making  formidable  pre- 
paration to  batter  it  down,  they  could  not  persuade  themselves 
that  God  would  suffer  that  holy  place  to  be  taken  by  the  hea- 
thens; but  still  expected  a  miraculous  deliverance.  And  though 
the  war  was  advancing  towards  the  temple,  they  themselves 
burnt  the  portico,  which  joined  it  to  Antonia  ;  which  occasion- 
ed Titus  to  remark,  that  they  began  to  destroy,  with  their  own 
hands,  that  magnificent  edifice,  which  he  had  preserved. 

3.  The  Roman  commander  had  determined  in  council  not 
to  burn  the  temple,  considering  the  existence  of  so  proud  a 
structure  an  honor  to  himself  He  therefore  attempted  to  bat- 
ter down  one  of  the  galleries  of  the  precinct;  but  as  the  strength 
of  the  wall  eluded  the  force  of  all  his  engines,  tlie  troops  next 
endeavored  to  scale  it,  but  were  repulsed  with  considerable 
loss. 

4.  When  Titus  found,  that  his  desire  of  saving  the  sacred 
building  was  likely  to  cost  many  lives,  he  set  fire  to  the  gates 
of  tlie  outer  temple,  which  being  plated  with  silver,  burnt  all 
night,  and  the  flame  rapidly  communicated  to  the  adjacent 
galleries  and  porticoes.  TituB,  who  was  still  desirous  of  pre- 
serving the  temple,  caused  the  flames  to  be  extinguished  ;  and 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  153 

appeased  the  clamors  of  his  troops,  who  vehemently  insisted  on 
the  necessity  of  razing  it  to  the  ground.  The  following  day 
was  therefore  fixed  upon,  for  a  general  assault  upon  that  magni- 
ficent structure. 

5.  The  utmost  exertions  of  Titus  to  save  the  temple  were, 
however,  ineffectual.  Our  Saviour  had  foretold  its  total  destruc- 
tion; and  his  awful  prediction  was  about  to  be  accomplished. 
"  And  now,"  says  Josephus,  "  the  fatal  day  approached  in  the 
revolution  of  ages,  the  10th  of  August,  emphatically  called  the 
day  of  vengeance,  in  which  the  first  temple  had  been  destroyed 
by  the  king  of  Babylon."* 

6.  While  Titus  was  reposing  himself  in  his  pavilion,  a  Ro- 
man soldier,  without  receiving  any  command,  but  urged  as  it 
were  by  a  divine  impulse,  seized  some  of  the  blazing  materials, 
and  with  the  assistance  of  another  soldier,  who  raised  him  from 
the  ground,  threw  them  through  a  window  into  one  of  the  apart- 
ments that  surrounded  the  sanctuary. 

7.  The  whole  nortli  side,  up  to  the  third  story,  was  imme- 
diately enveloped  in  flames.  The  Jews,  who  now  began  to 
suppose  that  Heaven  had  forsaken  them,  rushed  in  with  violent 
lamentations,  and  spared  no  effort,  not  even  life  itself,  to 
preserve  the  sacred  edifice  on  which  they  had  rested  their 
security. 

8.  Titus,  being  awakened  by  the  outcry,  hastened  to  the  spot, 
and  commanded  his  soldiers  to  exert  themselves  to  the  utmost 
to  extinguish  the  fire.  He  called,  prayed^  and  threatened  his 
men.  But  so  great  was  the  clamor  and  tumult,  that  his  entrea- 
ties and  menaces  were  alike  disregarded. 

9.  The  exasperated  Romans,  who  resorted  thither  from  the 
f  amp,  were  engaged  either  in  increasing  the  conflagration,  or 
killing  the  Jews ;  the  dead  were  heaped  about  the  altar,  and  a 
stream  of  blood  flowed  at  its  steps. 

10.  Still,  as  the  flames  had  not  reached  the  inner  part  of  the 
temple,  Titus,  with  some  of  his  chief  ofldcers,  entered  the  sanc- 
tuary and  most  holy  place,  which  excited  his  astonishment  and 
admiration.  After  having  in  vain  repeated  his  attempts  to 
prevent  its  destruction,  he  saved  the  golden  candlestick,  and 

*  Nebuchadnezzar,  king  of  Babylon,  took  Jerusalem — destroyed  the  tem- 
ple— and  carried  the  Jews  into  captivity,  B.  C.  606.  After  they  had  been 
kept  in  bondage  70  years,  Cyrus  the  Great,  king  of  Persia,  took  Babylon, 
and  set  them  at  liberty,  B.  C.  536.  The  Jews  then  returned  to  Jerusalem, 
and  built  the  second  temple.  The^rs^  temple  was  finished  and  dedicated 
by  Solomon,  B.  C.  1004,— the  second  temple  was  finished  and  dedicated 
B.  C.  515. 


154  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

table  of  shew  bread,  the  altar  of  perfumes,  which  were  all  of 
pure  gold ;  and  the  volume  of  the  law,  wrapped  up  in  a  rich 
golden  tissue.  Upon  his  leaving  the  sacred  place,  some  other 
soldiers  set  fire  to  it,  after  tearing  off  the  golden  plating  from 
the  gates  and  timber  work. 

11.  A  horrid  massacre  soon  followed,  in  which  prodigious 
multitudes  perished ;  while  others  rushed,  in  a  kind  of  frenzy, 
into  the  midst  of  the  flames,  and  precipitated  themselves  from 
the  battlements  of  their  falling  temple.  Six  thousand  persons, 
who,  deluded  by  a  false  prophet  with  the  hopes  of  a  miraculous 
deliverance,  had  fled  to  a  gallery  yet  standing  without  the  tem- 
ple, perished  at  once,  by  the  relentless  barbarity  of  the  soldiers, 
who  set  it  on  fire,  and  suffered  none  to  escape. 

12.  The  conquerors  carried  their  fury  to  such  a  height  as  to 
massacre  all  they  met,  without  distinction  of  age,  sex,or  quality. 
They  also  burnt  all  the  treasure  houses,  containing  vast  quanti- 
ties of  money,  plate,  and  the  richest  furniture.  In  a  word,  they 
continued  to  mark  their  progress  with  fire  and  sword,  till  they 
had  destroyed  all,  except  two  of  the  temple  gates,  and  that  part 
of  the  court  which  was  destined  for  the  women. 

13.  In  the  mean  time,  many  of  the  zealots,  by  making  the 
most  vigorous  exertions,  effected  their  escape  from  the  temple, 
and  retired  into  the  city.  But  the  avenues  were  so  strictly 
guarded,  that  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  escape.  They 
therefore  fortified  themselves,  as  well  as  they  were  able,  on 
the  south  vside  of  it ;  from  whence  Juhn  and  Simon  sent  to  de- 
sire a  conference  with  Titus. 

14.  They  were  answered,  that  though  they  had  caused  all 
this  ruin  and  effiision  of  blood,  yet  their  lives  should  be  spared, 
if  they  would  surrender  themselves.  They  replied,  that  "  they 
had  engaged  by  the  most  solemn  oaths,  not  to  deliver  up  their 
persons  to  him  on  any  condition  ;  and  requested  permission  to 
retire  to  the  mountains  with  their  wives  and  children."  The 
Roman  General,  enraged  at  this  insolence,  ordered  proclama- 
tion to  be  made,  that  not  one  of  them  should  be  spared,  since 
they  persisted  in  rejecting  his  last  offers  of  pardon. 

15.  The  daughter  of  Zion,  or  the  lower  city,  was  next  aban- 
doned to  the  fury  of  the  Roman  soldiers,  who  plundered,  burnt, 
and  massacred,  with  insatiable  rage.  The  zealots  next  betook 
themselves  to  the  royal  palace,  in  the  upper  and  stronger  part 
of  Jerusalem,  styled  also  the  city  of  David,  on  Mount  Zion. 
As  many  of  the  Jews  had  deposited  their  possessions  in  the  pa- 
lace for  security,  they  attacked  it,  killed  eight  thousand  four 
hundred  of  their  countrymen,  and  plundered  their  property. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  155 

16.  The  Roman  army  spent  nearly  twenty  days  in  making 
great  preparations  for  attacking  the  upper  city,  especially  the 
royal  palace ;  during  which  time  many  came  and  made  their 
submission  to  Titus.  The  warlike  engines  then  played  so  furi- 
ously upon  the  zealots,  that  they  were  seized  with  a  sudden 
panic,  quitted  the  towers  which  were  deemed  impregnable,  and 
ran  like  mad  men  towards  Shiloah,  intending  to  have  attacked 
the  wall  of  circumvallation,  and  escaped  out  of  the  city.  But 
being  vigorously  repulsed,  they  endeavored  to  conceal  them- 
selves in  subterraneous  passages  ;  and  as  many  as  were  discov- 
ered, were  put  to  death. 

17.  The  conpuest  of  Jerusalem  being  now  completed,  the 
Romans  placed  their  ensigns  upon  the  walls  with  triumphant 
joy.  They  next  walked  the  streets,  with  swords  ift  their  hands, 
and  killed  all  they  met.  Amidst  the  darkness  of  that  awful 
night,  fire  was  set  to  the  remaining  divisions  of  the  city,  and 
Jerusalem,  wrapt  in  flames,  and  bleeding  on  every  side,  sunk 
in  utter  ruin  and  destruction. 

18.  During  the  siege,  which  lasted  nearly  five  months,  up- 
wards of  eleven  hundred  thousand  Jews  perished.  John  and 
Simon,  the  two  grand  rebels,  with  seven  hundred  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  vigorous  of  the  Jewish  youth,  were  reserved,  to 
attend  the  victor's  triumphal  chariot.  After  which,  Simon  was 
put  to  death  ;  and  John,  who  had  stooped  to  beg  his  life,  con- 
demned to  perpetual  imprisonment. 

19.  The  number  who  were  taken  captive,  during  the  fatal 
contest  with  the  Romans,  amounted  to  ninety-seven  thousand ; 
many  of  whom  were  sent  into  Syria,  and  other  provinces,  to  be 
exposed  on  the  public  theatres,  to  fight  like  gladiators,  or  to  be 
devoured  by  wild  beasts.  The  number  of  those  destroyed, 
during  the  war,  which  lasted  seven  years,  is  computed  to  have 
been  one  million  four  hundred  and  sixty-two  thousand. 

20.  When  the  sword  had  returned  to  its  scabbard,  for  want 
of  objects  whereon  to  exercise  its  fury,  and  the  troops  were  sat- 
isfied with  plunder,  Titus  commanded  the  whole  city  and  temple 
to  be  demolished.  Thus  were  our  Saviour's  prophecies  fulfilled 
— "  Thine  enemies  shall  lay  thee  even  with  the  ground,  and 
there  shall  not  he  left  one  stone  upon  another^ 

*  Jerusalem  was  taken  and  destroyed  by  the  Romans  under  Titus,  thirty- 
seven  years  after  the  crucifixion  of  our  Saviour. 


156  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  LXXVIL 

The  Warrior'^s  Wreath, — Anonymous. 

\.  Behold  the  wreath  which  decks  the  warrior's  brow, 
Breathes  it  a  balmy  fragrance  sweet  1  Ah,  no  ! 

It  rankly  savors  of  the  grave  ! 
*Tis  red — but  not  with  roseate  hues  ; 

'Tis  crimsoned  o'er 

With  human  gore  ! 
'Tis  wet — ^but  not  with  heavenly  dews ; 

2.  'Tis  drench'd  in  tears  by  widows,  orphans  shed. 
Methinks  in  sable  weeds  I  see  them  clad, 

And  ;iiourn  in  vain,  for  husbands  slain, 
Children  belov'd,  or  brothers  dear. 

The  fatherless 

In  deep  distress,  ^ 

Despairing,  shed  the  scalding  tear. 

3.  I  hear,  'mid  dying  groans,  the  cannon's  crash, 
I  see,  'mid  smoke,  the  musket's  horrid  flash — 

Here  famine  walks — there  carnage  stalks — 
Hell  in  her  fiery  eye,  she  stains 

With  purple  blood. 

The  crystal  flood. 
Heaven's  altars,  and  the  verdant  plains  ! 

4.  Scenes  of  domestic  peace  and  social  bliss 

Are  chang'd  to  scenes  of  wo  and  wretchedness, 

The  votaries  of  vice  increase — 
Towns  sack'd — whole  cities  wrapt  in  flame  ! 

Just  Heaven  !  say, 

Is  this  the  hay^ 
Which  warriors  gain  ? — is  this  call'd  FAME  ? 


LESSON  LXXVIII. 

Elegy  written  in  a  Country  Church  Yard. — Gray. 

L  The  curfew  tolls — the  knell  of  parting  day ; — 
The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea  ;• 
The  ploughman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way,* 
And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness  and  to  me. 
*  Lea,  a  meadow,  or  plain.         • 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  157 

2.  Now  fades  the  glimmering  landscape  on  the  sight, 

And  all  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds ; 
Save  where  the  beetle*  wheels  his  droning  flight. 
And  drowsy  tinklings  lull  the  distant  folds  ; 

3.  Save  that,  from  yonder  ivy-mantled  tower, 

The  moping  owl  does  to  the  moon  complain 
Of  such  as,  wandering  near  her  secret  bower, 
Molest  her  ancient,  solitary  reign. 

4.  Beneath  those  rugged  elms,  that  yew-tree's  shade, 

Where  heaves  the  turf  in  many  a  mouldering  heap, 
Each  in  his  narrow  cell  forever  laid. 

The  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep. 

5.  The  breezy  call  of  incense-breathing  morn. 

The  swallow,  twittering  from  the  straw-built  shed, 
The  cock's  shrill  clarion,  or  the  echoing  horn. 
No  more  shall  rouse  them  from  their  lowly  bed. 

6.  For  them  no  more  the  blazing  hearth  shall  burn, 

Or  busy  housewife  ply  her  evening  care  ; 
No  children  run  to  lisp  their  sire's  return. 
Or  climb  his  knees  the  envied  kiss  to  share. 

7.  Oft  did  the  harvest  to  their  sickle  yield ; 

Their  furrow  oft  the  stubborn  glebe  has  broke ; 
How  jocund  did  they  drive  their  team  afield  ! 

How  bowed  the  woods  beneath  their  sturdy  stroke  ! 

8.  Let  not  ambition  mock  their  useful  toil. 

Their  homely  joys  and  destiny  obscure  ; 
Nor  grandeur  hear,  with  a  disdainful  smile. 
The  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor. 

9.  The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power. 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave, 
Await,  alike,  the  inevitable  hour  ; — 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave. 

10.  Nor  you,  ye  proud,  impute  to  these  the  fault. 

If  memory  o'er  their  tomb  no  trophies  raise. 
Where,  through  the  long-drawn  aisle,  and  fretted  vault, 
The  pealing  anthem  swells  the  note  of  praise. 

11.  Can  storied  urn,  or  animated  bust. 

Back  to  its  mansion  call  the  fleeting  breath  ? 

♦  Beetle,  an  insect. 

14 


158  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Can  Honor's  voice  provoke  the  silent  dust, 
Or  Flattery  soothe  the  dull,  cold  ear  of  death  ? 

12.  Perhaps,  in  this  neglected  spot,  is  laid 

Some  heart,  once  pregnant  with  celestial  fire ; 
Hands,  that  the  rod  of  empire  might  have  swayed, 
Or  waked  to  ecstasy  the  living  lyre  : 

13.  But  Knowledge  to  their  eyes  her  ample  page, 

Rich  with  the  spoils  of  time,  did  ne'er  unrol ; 
Chill  Penury  repressed  their  noble  rage, 
And  froze  the  genial  current  of  the  soul. 

14.  Full  many  a  gem,  of  purest  ray  serene. 

The  dark,  unfathomed  caves  of  ocean  bear  ; 
Full  many  a  flower  is  born  to  blush  unseen, 
And  waste  its  sweetness  on  the  desert  air. 

15.  Some  village  Hampden,*  that,  ^vith  dauntless  breast, 

The  little  tyrant  of  his  fields  withstood  ; 
Some  mute,  inglorious  Miltonf  here  may  rest ; 
Some  Cromwell,!  guiltless  of  his  country's  blood. 

16.  The  applause  of  listening  senates  to  command. 

The  threats  of  pain  and  ruin  to  despise, 
To  scatter  plenty  o'er  a  smiling  land. 

And  read  their  history  in  a  nation's  eyes ; 

17.  Their  lot  forbade  :  nor  circumscribed  alone 

Their  growing  virtues,  but  their  crimes  confined  ; — 
Forbade  to  wade  through  slaughter  to  a  throne, 
And  shut  the  gates  of  mercy  on  mankind  ; 

18.  The  struggling  pangs  of  conscious  Truth  to  hide, 

To  quench  tlie  bluslies  of  ingenuous  Shame ; 
Or  heap  the  shrine  of  Luxury  and  Pride 
With  incense  kindled  at  tlie  muse's  flame. 

♦  John  Hampden,  an  illustrious  patriot  and  political  writer  in  the  reign 
oT  Charles  I.  He  was  a  man  of  undaunted  courage  ; — and  in  1636.  he  had 
the  boldness,  alone,  and  unsupported,  to  resist  the  royal  authority  in  levyintj 
ship-money,  and  although  he  lost  his  cause,  he  was  highly  applauded  by  ail 
for  his  firmness.     He  died  1643. 

t  John  Milton,  an  English  poet,  bom  1608.  The  most  celebrated  work 
which  he  wrote,  is  "  Paradise  Lost," 

t  Oliver  Cromwell,  a  distinguTshed  English  General,  was  bom  1599. — 
After  the  death  of  Charles  I.,  he  assumed  the  title  of  "  Protector  of  the 
Commonwealth  of  England,"  1653.  He  administered  the  affairs  of  the 
kingdom  for  five  years,  with  great  vigor  and  ability.     He  died  in  1658. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  159 

19.  Far  from  the  madding  crowd's  ignoble  strife. 

Their  sober  wishes  never  learned  to  stray  : 
Along  the  cool,  sequestered  vale  of  life 
They  kept  the  noiseless  tenor  of  their  way. 

20.  Yet  even  these  bones  from  insult  to-protect, 

Some  frail  memorial,  still  erected  nigh. 
With  uncouth  rhymes  and  shapeless  sculpture  decked, 
Implores  the  passing  tribute  of  a  sigh. 

21.  Their  name,  their  years,  spelled  by  the  unlettered  muse, 

The  place  of  fame  and  elegy  supply  ; 

And  many  a  holy  text  around  she  strews, 

That  teach  the  rustic  moralist  to  die. 

22.  For  who,  to  dumb  forgetfulness  a  prey, 

This  pleasing,  anxious  being  e'er  resigned, — 
Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day, — 
Nor  cast  one  longing,  lingering  look  behind  ? 

23.  On  some  fond  breast  the  parting  soul  relies : 

Some  pious  drops  the  closing  eye  requires  : 
Even  from  the  tomb  the  voice  of  nature  cries, 
Even  in  our  ashes  live  their  wonted  fires. 

24.  For  thee,  who,  mindful  of  the  unhonored  dead. 

Dost  in  these  lines  their  artless  tale  relate. 
If,  chance,  by  lonely  Contemplation  led, 
Some  kindred  spirit  shall  inquire  thy  fate. 

25.  Haply,  some  hoary-Headed  swain  may  say, 

"  Oft  have  we  seen  him,  at  the  peep  of  dawn. 
Brushing,  with  hasty  steps,  the  dews  away. 
To  meet  the  sun  upon  the  upland  lawn. 

26.  "  There,  at  the  foot  of  yonder  nodding  beech. 

That  wreathes  its  old,  fantastic  roots  so  high. 
His  listless  length  at  noontide  would  he  stretch, 
And  pore  upon  the  brook  that  babbles  by. 

27.  "Hard  by  yon  wood,  now  smiling,  as  in  scorn, 

Muttering  his  wayward  fancies,  he  would  rove ; 
Now  drooping,  woful  wan,  like  one  forlorn, 

Or  crazed  with  care,  or  crossed  in  hopeless  love. 

28.  "  One  morn  I  missed  him  on  the  accustomed  hill, 

Along  the  heath,  and  near  his  favorite  tree  : 
Another  came  ;  nor  yet  beside  the  rill. 
Nor  up  the  lawn,  nor  at  the  wood,  was  he : 


leo  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

29.  "  The  next,  with  dirges  due,  in  sad  array, 

Slow  through  the  church-waj^  path  we  saw  him  borne. 
Approach  and  read  (for  thou  canst  read)  the  lay. 
Graved  on  the  stone  beneath  yon  aged  thorn." 

THE    EPITAPH. 

30.  Here  rests  his  head,  upon  the  lap  of  earth, 

A  youth,  to  fortune  and  to  fame  unknown : 
Fair  Science  frowned  not  on  his  humble  birth, 
And  Melancholy  marked  him  for  her  own. 

31.  Large  was  his  bounty,  and  Jiis  soul  sincere  : 

Heaven  did  a  recompense  as  largely  send : — 
He  gave  to  misery  all  he  had — a  tear ; 

He  gained  from  heaven — 'twas  all  he  wished — a  friend. 

32.  No  farther  seek  his  merits  to  disclose. 

Or  draw  his  frailties  from  their  dread  abode — 
(There  they,  alike,  in  trembling  hope,  repose,) 
The  bosom  of  his  Father  and  his  God. 


LESSON  LXXIX. 

Ossian^s*  Address  to  tJie  Sun. 

1.  O  THOU  that  rollest  above,  round  as  the  shield  of  my 
fathers  !  Whence  are  thy  beams,  O  sun  !  thy  everlasting  light? 
Thou  comest  forth,  in  thy  awful  beauty,  and  the  stars  hide 
themselves  in  the  sky  ;  the  moon,  cold  and  pale,  sinks  in  the 
western  wave.  But  thou  thyself  movest  alone  :  who  can  be  a 
companion  of  thy  course  ?  The  oaks  of  the  mountains  fall ;  the 
mountains  themselves  decay  with  years  ;  the  ocean  shrinks  and 
cfrows  aorain  ;  the  moon  herself  is  lost  in  heaven  ;  but  thou  art 
for  ever  the  same,  rejoicing  in  the  brightness  of  thy  course. 

2.  When  the  world  is  dark  with  tempests ;  when  thunder 
rolls,  and  lightning  flies  ;  thou  lookest  in  thy  beauty,  from  the 
clouds,  and  laughest  at  the  gtorm.  But  to  Ossian,  thou  lookest 
in  vain ;  for  he  beholds  thy  beams  no  more  ;  whether  thy  yellow 
hair  flows  on  the  eastern  clouds,  or  thou  tremblest  at  the  gates 
of  the  west.  But  thou  art  perhaps,  like  me,  for  a  season,  and 
thy  years  will  have  an  end.  Thou  shalt  sleep  in  thy  clouds, 
careless  of  the  voice  of  the  morning. 

*  Ossian,  an  ancient  Scotch,  or  Gaelic  poet,  supposed  to  have  flourished 
in  the  second  century,  and  to  have  been  the  son  of  Fingal.  His  poems  were 
translated. by  Mr.  M'Pherson,  in  1762. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  161 

3.  Exult  then,  O  sun,  in  the  strength  of  thy  youth  !  Age  is 
dark  and  unlovely  ;  it  is  like  the  glimmering  light  of  the  moon, 
when  it  shines  through  broken  clouds,  and  the  mist  is  on  thr 
hills ;  the  blast  of  the  north  is  on  the  plain,  the  traveller  shrink  ' 
in  the  midst  of  his  journey. 


LESSON  LXXX. 

The  African  Chief. — U.  S.  Literary  Gazette. 

1.  Chain'd  in  the  market-place  he  stood, 

A  man  of  giant  frame, 
Amid  the  gathering  multitude 

That  shrunk  to  hear  his  name, — 
All  stern  of  look  and  strong  of  limb, 

His  dark  eye  on  the  ground  ; 
And  silently  they  gaz'd  on  him, 

As  on  a  lion  bound. 

2.  Vainly,  but  well,  that  chief  had  fought — 

He  was  a  captive  now ; 
Yet  pride,  that  fortune  humbles  not, 

Was  written  on  his  brow  : 
The  scars  his  dark  broad  bosom  wore 

Showed  warrior  true  and  brave : 
A  prince  among  his  tribe  before, 

He  could  not  be  a  slave. 

3.  Then  to  his  conqueror  he  spake, 

"  My  brother  is  a  king  : 
Undo  this  necklace  from  my  neck. 

And  take  this  bracelet  ring, 
And  send  me  where  my  brother  reigns, 

And  I  will  fill  thy  hands 
With  store  of  ivory  from  the  plains. 

And  gold  dust  from  the  sands." 

4.  "  Not  for  thy  ivory  nor  thy  gold 

Will  I  unbind  thy  chain ; 
That  bloody  hand  shall  never  hold        • 

The  battle-spear  again. 
A  price  thy  nation  never  gave 

Shall  yet  be  paid  for  thee  ; 
For  thou  shalt  be  the  Christian's  slave, 

In  land  beyond  the  sea." 


163  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

6.  Then  wept  the  warrior  chief,  and  bade 

To  shred  his  locks  away  ; 
And,  one  by  one,  each  heavy  braid 

Before  the  victor  lay. 
Thick  were  the  platted  locks,  and  long, 

And  deftly  hidden  there 
Shone  many  a  wedge  of  gold  among 

The  dark  and  crisped  hair. 

6.  "  Look,  feast  thy  greedy  eye  with  gold, 

Long  kept  for  sorest  need  : 
Take  it — thou  askest  sums  untold — 

And  say  that  I  am  freed. 
Take  it — my  Mdfe,  the  long,  long  day, 

"Weeps  by  the  cocoa  tree. 
And  my  young  children  leave  their  play, 

And  ask  in  vain  for  me." 

7.  "  I  take  thy  gold, — but  I  have  made 

Thy  fetters  fast  and  strong. 
And  ween*  that  by  the  cocoa  shade 

Thy  wife  shall  wait  thee  long." 
Strong  was  the  agony  that  shook 

The  captive's  frame  to  hear, 
And  the  proud  meaning  of  his  look 

Was  chang'd  to  mortal  fear. 

8.  His  heart  was  broken — craz'd  his  brain — 

At  once  his  eye  grew  wild  : 
He  struggled  fiercely  with  his  chain, 

Whisper'd, — and  wept, — and  smil'd  ; 
Yet  wore  not  long  those  fatal  bands, 

And  once,  at  shut  of  day. 
They  drew  him  forth  upon  the  sands, 

The  foul  hyena'sf  prey. 


LESSON  LXXXL 

Formation  of  Character. — J.  Hawes,  D.  D. 

1.  It  is  ever' to  be  kept  in  mind,  that  a  good  name  is  in  all 
cases  the  fruit  of  personal  exertion.     It  is  not  inherited  from 

*  Ween,  to  think,  to  imagine,  to  fancy. 

t  The  Hy-e-na  is  a  most  hateful  and  disgustincr  animal,  about  the  size  of 
a  lar^e  dog.  He  is  found  in  Asia  and  Africa.  He  prefers  to  cat  the  fleah 
of  animals  iii.a  putrid  state 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  163 

parents ;  it  is  not  created  by  external  advantages  ;  it  is  no 
necessary  appendage  of  birth,  or  wealth,  or  talents,  or  station  ; 
but  the  result  of  one's  own  endeavors, — the  fruit  and  reward  of 
good  principles,  manifested  in  a  course  ofvirtuous  and  honorable 
action.  This  is  the  more  important  to  be  reoiarked,  because  it 
shows  that  the  attainment  of  a  good  name,  whatever  be  your 
external  circumstances,  is  entirely  within  your  power. 

2.  No  young  man,  however  humble  his  birth,  or  obscure  his 
condition,  is  excluded  from  the  invaluable  boon.  He  has  only 
to  fix  his  eye  upon  the  prize,  and  press  towards  it,  in  a  course 
of  virtuous  and  useful  conduct,  and  it  is  his.  And  it  is  interest- 
ing to  notice  how  many  of  our  worthiest  and  best  citizens  have 
risen  to  honor  and  usefulness  by  dint  of  their  own  persevering 
exertions.  They  are  to  be  found,  in  great  numbers,  in  each  of 
the  learned  professions,  and  in  every  department  of  business  ; 
and  they  stand  forth,  bright  and  animating  examples  of  what 
can  be  accomplished  by  resolution  and  eflbrt. 

3.  Indeed,  my  friends,  in  the  formation  of  character,  personal 
exertion  is  the  first,  the  second,  and  the  third  virtue.  Nothing 
great  or  excellent  can  be  acquired  without  it.  A  good  name 
will  not  come  without  being  sought.  All  the  virtues  of  which  it 
is  composed  are  the  result  of  untiring  application  and  indust^}^ 
Nothinof  can  be  more  fatal  to  the  attainment  of  a  grood  character 
than  a  treacherous  confidence  in  external  advantages.  These, 
if  not  seconded  by  your  own  endeavors,  "  will  drop  you  mid 
way  :  or  perhaps  you  will  not  have  started,  when  the  diligent 
traveller  will  have  won  the  race." 

4.  To  the  formation  of  a  good  character,  it  is  of  the  highest 
importance  that  you  have  a  commanding  object  in  view,  and 
that  your  aim  in  life  h^  elevated.  ■  To  this  cause,  perhaps, 
more  than  to  any  other,  is  to  be  ascribed  the  great  difference 
which  appears  in  the  characters  of  men.  Some  start  in  life 
with  an  object  yi  view,  and  are  determined  to  attain  it ;  whilst 
others  live  witliout  plan,  and  reach  not  for  the  prize  set  before 
them.  The  energies  of  the  one  are  called  into  vigorous  action, 
and  they  rise  to  eminence  ;  whilst  the  others  are  left  to  slumber 
in  ignoble  ease  and  sink  into  obscurity. 

5.  It  is  an  old  proverb,  that  he  who  aims  at  the  sun,  to  be 
sure  will  not  reach  it,  but  his  arrow  will  fly  higher  than  if  he 
aimed  at  an  object  on  a  level  with  himself.  Just  so  in  the  for- 
mation of  character.  Set  your  standard  high  ;  and,  though  you 
may  not  reach  it,  you  can  hardly  fail  to  rise  higher  than  if  you 
aimed  at  some  inferior  excellence.  Young  men  are  not,  in  gen- 
eral, conscious  of  what  they  are  capable  of  doing. 


164  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

6.  Tliey  do  not  task  their  faculties,  nor  improve  their  powers, 
nor  attempt,  as  they  ought,  to  rise  to  superior  excellence.  They 
have  no  high,  commanding  object,  at  which  to  aim  ;  but  often 
seem  to  be  passing  away  life  without  object  and  without  aim. 
The  consequence  is,  their  efforts  are  few  and  feeble  ;  they  are 
not  waked  up  to  any  thing  great  or  distinguished  ;  and  therefore 
fail  to  acquire  a  character  of  decided  worth. 

7.  My  friends.  You  may  be  whatever  you  resolve  to  be. — 
Resolution  is  omnipotent.  Determine  that  you  will  be  some- 
thing in  the  world,  and  you  shall  be  something.  Aim  at  excel- 
lence, and  excellence  will  be  attained.  This  is  the  great  secret 
of  effort  and  eminence.  I  cannot  do  it,  never  accomplished  any 
thing  ;  /  will  try,  has  wrought  wonders. 

8.  You  have  all  perhaps  heard  of  the  young  man,  who,  hav- 
ing wasted,  in  a  short  time,  a  large  patrimony,  in  profligate 
revels,  formed  a  purpose,  while  hanging  over  the  brow  of  a 

Erecipice  from  which  he  had  determined  to  throw  himself,  that 
e  would  regain  what  he  had  lost.  The  purpose  thus  formed 
lie  kept ;  and  though  he  began  by  shovelling  a  load  of  coals 
into  a  cellar,  he  proceeded  from  one  step  to  another,  till  he 
more  than  recovered  his  lost  possession,  and  died  an  inveterate 
miser,  worth  sixty  thousand  pounds. 

9.  I  mention  this,  not  as  an  example  to  be  imitated,  but  as 
a  signal  instance  of  what  can  be  accomplished  by  fixed  purpose 
and  persevering  exertion.  A  young  man  who  sets  out  in  life 
with  a  determination  to  excel,  can  hardly  fail  of  his  pur{)ose. 
There  is,  in  his  case,  a  steadiness  of  aim, — a  concentration  of 
feeling  and  effort,  which  bear  him  onward  lo  his  object  with 
irresistible  energy,  and  render  success,  in  whatever  he  under- 
takes, certain. 


LESSON  LXXXn.       • 

On  Happiness  of  Temper. — Goldsmith. 

1.  Writers  of  every  age  have  endeavored  to  show — that 
pleasure  is  in  us,  and  not  in  the  objects  oflered  for  our  amuse- 
ment. If  the  soul  be  happily  disposed,  every  thing  becomes 
capable  of  affording  entertainment;  and  distress  will  almost 
want  a  name.  Every  occurrence  passes  in  review,  like  the 
figures  of  a  procession;  some  may  be  awkward,  others  ill  dress- 
ed ;  but  none  but  a  fool  is,  for  this,  enraged  with  the  master 
of  the  ceremonies. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  165 

2.  I  remember  to  have  once  seen  a  slave,  in  a  fortification  in 
Flanders,  who  appeared  no  way  touched  with  his  situation. " 
He  was  maimed,  deformed,  and  chained ;  obliged  to  toil  fram 
the  appearance  of  day  till  night-fall,  and  condemned  to  this  for 
life ;  yet,  with  all  these  circumstances  of  apparent  wretched- 
ness, he  sung,  would  have  danced,  but  that  he  wanted  a  leg, 
and  appeared  the  merriest,  happiest  man  of  all  the  garrison. 

3.  What  a  practical  philosophy  was  here  !  a  happy  consti- 
tution supplied  philosophy  ;  and  though  seemingly  destitute  of 
wisdom,  he  was  really  wise.  No  reading  or  study  had  contri- 
buted to  disenchant  the  fairy-land  around  him.  Every  thing 
furnished  him  with  an  opportunity  of  mirth  ;  and  though  some 
thought  him,  from  his  insensibility,  a  fool — he  was  such  an 
idiot  as  philosophers  should  wish  to  imitate  ;  for  all  philosophy 
is  only  forcing  the  trade  of  happiness,  when  Nature  seems  to 
deny  the  means.  • 

4.  They  who,  like  our  slave,  can  place  themselves  on  that 
side  of  the  world  in  which  every  thing  appears  in  a  pleasing 
light,  will  find  something  in  every  occurrence  to  excite  their 
good  humor.  The  most  calamitous  events  either  to  themselves 
or  others,  can  bring  no  new  affliction  ;  the  whole  world  is,  to 
them,  a  theatre,  on  which  comedies  only  are  acted.  All  the 
bustle  of  heroism,  or  the  rants  of  ambition,  serve  only  to  heigh- 
ten the  absurdity  of  the  scene,  and  make  the  humor  more  poig- 
nant. They  feel,  in  short,  as  little  anguish  at  their  own  dis- 
tress, or  the  complaints  of  others,  as  the  undertaker,  though 
dressed  in  black,  feels  sorrow  at  a  funeral. 

5.  Of  all  the  men  I  ever  read  of,  the  famous  Cardinal  de  Retz 

{)0ssessed  this  happiness  of  temper  in  the  highest  degree.  As 
le  was  a  man  of  gallantry,  and  despised  all  that  wore  the  pe- 
dantic appearance  of  philosophy,  wherever  pleasure  was  to  be 
sold,  he  was  generally  foremost  to  raise  the  auction.  Being  a 
universal  admirer  of  the  fair  sex — when  he  found  one  lady  cruel, 
he  generally  fell  in  love  with  another,  from  whom  he  expected 
a  more  favorable  reception.  If  she,  too,  rejected  his  addresses, 
he  never  thought  of  retiring  into  deserts,  or  pining  in  hopeless 
distress:  he  persuaded  himself — that,  instead  of  lo^dng  the  lady 
he  had  only  fancied  that  he  had  loved  her ; — and  so  all  was 
well  again. 

6.  When  fortune  wore  her  angriest  look,  and  he  at  last  fell 
into  the  power  of  his  most  deadly  enemy.  Cardinal  Mazarine, 
(being  confined  a  close  prisoner  in  the  castle  of  Valenciennes,*) 

*  Pronounced  Val-en-scenes',  a  city  in  the  north  of  France,  situated  onihe 
river  Scheldt. 


166  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

he  never  attempted  to  support  his  distress  by  wisdom  or  philo- 
sophy ;  for  he  pretended  to  neither.  He  only  laughed  at  him- 
self and  his  persecutor ;  and  seemed  infinitely  pleased  at  his 
new  situation.  In  this  mansion' of  distress, — though  secluded 
from  his  friends, — though  denied  all  the  amusements,  and  even 
the  conveniences  of  life,  he  still  retained  his  good  humor ; 
laughed  at  the  little  spite  of  his  enemies :  and  carried  the  jest 
so  far — as  to  be  revenged,  by  writing  the  life  of  his  jailer. 

7.  All  that  the  wisdom  of  the  proud  can  teach — is  to  be  stub- 
born, or  sullen,  under  misfortunes.  The  Cardinal's  example 
will  instruct  us  to  be  merry,  in  circumstances  of  the  highest 
affliction.  It  matters  not  whether  our  good  humor  be  constru- 
ed, by  others,  into  insensibility ;  or  even  idiotism  ;  it  is  happi- 
ness to  ourselves  ;  and  none  but  a  fool  would  measure  his  sat- 
isfaction by  what  the  world  thinks  of  it. 

8.  The  happiest  silly  fellow  I  ever  knew,  was  of  the  number 
of  those  good  natured  creatures  that  are  said  to  do  no  harm  to 
any  but  themselves.  Whenever  he  fell  into  any  misery,  he 
called  it,  "  seeing  life."  If  his  head  was  broke  by  a  chairman, 
or  his  pocket  picked  by  a  sharper,  he  comforted  himself  by  im- 
itating the  Hibernian  dialect  of  the  one,  or  the  more  fashiona- 
ble cant  of  the  other.     Nothing  came  amiss  to  him. 

9.  His  inattention  to  money  matters  had  incensed  his  father 
to  such  a  degree,  that  all  intercession  of  friends  in  his  favor 
was  fruitless.  The  old  gentleman  was  on  his  death  bed.  The 
whole  family  (and  Dick  among  the  number)  gathered  around 
him. 

10.  "  I  leave  my  second  son,  Andrew,"  said  the  expiring 
miser,  "  my  whole  estate ;  and  desire  him  to  be  frugal." — 
Andrew,  in  a  sorrowful  tone,  (as  is  usual  on  those  occasions) 
prayed  Heaven  to  prolong  his  life  and  health  to  enjoy  it 
himself! 

11.  "I  recommend  Simon,  my  third  son,  to  the  care  of  his 
elder  brother ;  and  leave  him,  beside,  four  thousand  pounds." 
"  Ah !  father,"  cried  Simon,  (in  great  affliction  to  be  sure) 
"  may  Heaven  give  you  life  and  health  to  enjoy  it  yourself!" 

12.  At  last — turning  to  poor  Dick,  "  as  for  you,  you  have 
always  been  a  sad  dog ;  you'll  never  come  to  good  :  you'll 
never  be  rich  ;  I  leave  you  a  shilling,  to  buy  a  halter."  "  Ah  ! 
father,"  cries  Dick,  without  any  emotion,  "may  Heaven  give 
you  life  and  health  to  enjoy  it  yourself  P^ 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  167 

LESSON   LXXXIIL 

The  Sleepers. — Miss  M.  A.  Browne. 

\.  They  are  sleeping  !  Who  are  sleeping? 

Children,  wearied  with  their  play ; 
For  the  stars  of  night  are  peeping. 

And  the  sun  hath  sunk  away. 
As  the  dew  upon  the  blossoms 

Bow  them  on  their  slender  stem, 
So,  as  light  as  their  own  bosoms, 

Balmy  sleep  hath  conquered  them, 

2.  They  are  sleeping  !  Who  are  sleeping  ? 

Mortals,  compassed  round  with  wo. 
Eyelids,  wearing  out  with  weeping, 

Close  for  very  weakness  now  : 
And  that  short  relief  from  sorrow, 

Harassed  nature  shall  sustain, 
Till  they  wake  again  to-morrow, 

Strengthened  to  contend  with  pain  ! 

3.  They  are  sleeping  !  Who  are  sleeping  ? 

Captives,  in  their  gloomy  cells ; 
Yet  sweet  dreams  are  o'er  them  creeping ; 

With  their  many-colored  spells. 
All  they  love — again  they  clasp  them; 

Feel  again  their  long-lost  joys  ; 
But  the  haste  with  which  they  grasp  them, 

Every  fairy  form  destroys, 

4.  They  are  sleeping !  Who  are  sleeping  ? 

Misers,  by  their  hoarded  gold  ; 
And  in  fancy  now  are  heaping 

Grems  and  pearls  of  price  untold. 
Golden  chains  their  limbs  encumber. 

Diamonds  seem  before  them  strown  : 
But  they  waken  from  their  slumber. 

And  the  splendid  dream  is  flown, 

5.  They  are  sleeping  !  W^ho  are  sleeping  X 

Pause  a  moment,  softly  tread ; 
Anxious  friends  are  fondly  keeping 

Vigils  by  the  sleeper's  bed  ! 
Other  hopes  have  all  forsaken, — 

One  remains, — that  slumber  deep 
Speak  not,  lest  the  slumberer  waken 

From  that  sweet,  that  saving  sleep. 


^ 


168  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

6.  They  are  sleeping !  Who  are  sleeping  ? 

Thousands,  who  have  pass'd  away. 
From  a  world  of  wo  and  weeping, 

To  the  regions  of  decay  ! 
Safe  they  rest,  the  green  turf  under : 

Sighing  breeze,  or  music's  breath, 
Winter's  wind,  or  summer's  thunder, 

Cannot  break  the  sleep  of  death ! 


LESSON  LXXXIV. 

A  Good  Scholar. — May. 

L  A  GOOD  scholar  is  known  by  his  obedience  to  the  rules  oi 
the  school,  and  to  the  directions  of  his  teacher.  He  does  not 
give  his  teacher  the  trouble  of  telling  him  the  same  thing  over 
and  over  again  ;  but  says  or  does  immediately  whatever  he  is 
desired.  His  attendance  at  the  proper  time  of  school  is  always 
punctual.  Fearful  of  being  too  late,  as  soon  as  the  hour  of 
meeting  approaches,  he  hastens  to  the  school,  takes  his  place 
quietly,  and  instantly  attends  to  his  lesson.  He  is  remarkable 
for  his  diligence  and  attention.  He  reads  no  other  book  than 
that  which  he  is  desired  to  read  by  his  master.  He  studies  no 
lessons  but  those  which  are  appointed  for  the  day. 

2.  He  takes  no  toys  from  his  pocket  to  amuse  himself  or 
others ;  he  has  no  fruit  to  eat,  no  sweetmeats  to  give  avvay.- 
If  any  of  his  companions  attempt  to  take  off  his  eye  or  his  mini 
from  his  lesson,  he  does  not  give  heed  to  them.     If  they  stil 
try  to  make  him  idle,  he  bids  them  let  him  alone,  and  do  their 
own  duties.     And  if,  after  this,  they  go  on  to  disturb  and  vex 
him,  he  informs  the  teacher,  that  both,  for  their  sake  and  for 
his  own,  he  may  interfere,  and,  by  a  wise  reproof,  prevent  the 
continuance  of  such  improper  and  hurtful  conduct. 

3.  When  strangers  enter  the  school,  he  does  not  stare  rudely 
in  their  faces  ;  but  is  as  attentive  to  his  lesson  as  if  no  one  were 
present  but  the  master.  If  they  speak  to  him,  he  answers  with 
modesty  and  respect.  When  the  scholars  in  his  class  are  read- 
ing, spelling,  or  repeating  any  thing,  he  is  very  attentive,  and 
studies  to  learn  by  listening  to  them.  His  great  desire  is  to 
improve,  and  therefore  he  is  never  idle, — not  even  when  he 
might  be  so,  and  yet  escape  detection  and  punishment. 

4.  He  minds  his  business  as  well  when  his  teacher  is  out  of 
sight,  as  when  he  is  standing  near  him,  or  looking  at  him.  If 
possible,  he  is  more  diligent  when  his  teacher  happens  for  a  little 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  169 

to  be  away  from  him,  that  he  may  show  "  all  good  fidelity"  in 
this,  as  in  every  thing  else.  He  is  desirous  of  adding  to  the 
knowledge  he  has  already  gained,  of  learning  something  useful 
every  day.  And  he  is  not  satisfied  if  a  day  passes  without 
making  him  wiser  than  he  was  before,  in  those  things  which 
will  be  of  real  benefit  to  him. 

5.  When  he  has  a  diflicult  lesson  to  learn,  or  a  hard  task  to 
perform,  he  does  not  fret  or  murmur  at  it.  He  knows  that  his 
master  would  not  have  prescribed  it  to  him,  unless  he  had 
thought  that  he  was  able  for  it,  and  that  it  would  do  him  good. 
He  therefore  sets  about  it  readily ;  and  he  encourages  himself 
with  such  thoughts  as  these :  "  My  parents  will  be  very  glad 
when  they  hear  that  I  have  learned  this  diflicult  lesson,  and 
performed  this  hard  task.  My  teacher,  also,  will  be  pleased 
with  me  for  my  diligence.  And  I  myself  shall  be  comfortable 
and  happy  when  the  exercise  is  finished.  The  sooner  and  the 
more  heartily  I  apply  myself  to  it,  the  sooner  and  the  better  it 
will  be  done." 

6.  When  he  reads,  his  words  are  pronounced  so  distinctly, 
that  you  can  easily  hear  and  understand  him.  His  copy  book 
is  fairly  written,  and  free  from  blots  and  scrawls.  His  letters 
are  clear  and  full,  and  his  strokes  broad  and  fine.  His  figures 
are  well  made,  accurately  cast  up,  and  neatly  put  down  in  their 
regular  order ;  and  his  accounts  are,  in  general,  free'  from 
mistakes. 

7.  He  not  only  improves  himself,  but  he  rejoices  in  the  im- 
provement of  others.  He  loves  to  hear  them  commended,  and 
to  see  them  rewarded.  "  If  I  do  well,"  he  says,  "  I  shall  be 
commended  and  rewarded  too;  and  if  all  did  well,  what  a  happy 
school  would  ours  be !  We  ourselves  should  be  much  more 
comfortable ;  and  our  master  would  have  a  great  deal  less 
trouble  and  distress  than  he  has,  on  account  of  the  idleness  and 
inattention,  of  which  too  many  of  us  are  guilty." 

8.  His  books  he  is  careful  to  preserve  from  every  thing  that 
might  injure  them.  Having  finished  his  lesson,  he  puts  them  in 
their  proper  place,  and  does  not  leave  them  to  be  tossed  about, 
and,  by  that  means,  torn  and  dirtied.  He  never  forgets  to  pray 
for  the  blessing  of  God  on  himself,  on  his  school-fellows,  and  on 
his  teacher ;  for  he  knows  that  the  blessing  of  God  is  necessary 
to  make  his  education  truly  useful  to  him,  both  in  this  life-,  and 
in  that  which  is  to  come. 

9.  And,  finally,  it  is  his  constaat  endeavor  to  behave  well 
when  he  is  out  of  school,  as  well  as  when  he  is  in  it.  He  remem- 
bers that  the  eye  of  God  is  ever  upon  him,  and  that  he  must  at 

15 


170  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

last  give  an  account  of  himself  to  the  great  Judge  of  all.  And, 
therefore,  he  studies  to  practise,  at  all  times,  the  religious  and 
moral  lessons  that  he  receives  from  his  master,  or  that  he  reads 
in  the  Bible,  or  that  he  meets  with  in  the  other  books  that  are 
given  him  to  peruse;  and  to  »  walk  in  all  the  commandments 
and  ordinances  of  the  Lord,  blameless." 


LESSON  LXXXV. 
Select  Sentences. 

1.  If  the  mind  is  well  cultivated,  it  produces  a  store  of  fruit ; 
if  neglected,  it  is  overrun  with  weeds. 

2.  The  young  are  slaves  to  novelty ; — the  old  to  custom. 

3.  Ingratitude  is  more  baneful  than  a  pestilential  vapor, — 
and  mor'e  destructive  to  society  than  a  band  of  robbers. 

4.  There  is  nothing  honorable,  that  is  not  innocent ; — and 
nothing  mean,  but  what  attaches  guilt. 

5.  As,  among  wise  men,  he  is  #ie  wisest  who  thinks  he  knows 
the  least, — so,  among  fools,  he  is  the  greatest  who  thinks  he 
knows  the  most. 

6.  Precipitation  ruins  the  best  contrived  plan ; — patience 
ripens  the  most  difficult. 

7.  It  was  a  saying  of  Socrates,  that  we  should  eat  and  drink 
in  order  to  live  ;  instead  of  living  as  many  do,  in  order  to  eat 
and  drink. 

8.  Men  make  themselves  ridiculous,  not  so  much  by  the 
qualities  they  have,  as  by  the  affectation  of  those  they  have  not. 

9.  The  injuries  we  do,  and  those  we  suffer,  are  seldom  weigh- 
ed in  the  same  balance. 

iO.  Never  delay  to  a  future  period,  that  which  can  be  done 
immediately, — nor  transfer  to  another,  what  you  can  perform 
yourself. 

11.  Be  sincere  in  all  your  words, — prudent  in  all  your  ac- 
tions,— and  obliging  in  all  your  manners. 

12.  Seriousness  is  the  greatest  wisdom, — temperance,  the 
best  medicine, — and  a  good  conscience,  the  best  estate. 

13.  It  is  better  to  do  and  not  promise, — than  to  promise  and 
not  perform. 

14.  No  station  is  so  high,  no  power  so  great,  no  character  so 
unblemished,  as  to  exempt  men  from  the  attacks  of  rashness, 
malice,  or  envy. 

15.  Contemporaries  appreciate  the  man  rather  than  the  merit : 
but  posterity  will  regard  the  merit  rather  than  the  man. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  171 

16.  Mystery  magnifies  danger,  as  a  fog  the  sun  ;  the  hand 
that  warned  the  eastern  prince,*  derived  its  horrifying  influence 
from  the  want  of  a  body. 

17.  True  friendship  is  hke  sound  health, — the  value  of  it  is 
seldom  known  until  it  be  lost. 

18.  Young  folks  tell  what  they  do, — old  ones  what  they  have 
done, — and  fools  what  they  will  do. 

19.  From  principles  is  derived  probability  ;  but  truth  is  ob- 
tained only  from  facts. 

20.  The  volume  of  nature  is  the  book  of  knowledge,  and  he 
becomes  most  wise,  who  makes  the  most  judicious  selection. 

21.  Title  and  ancestry  render  a  good  man  more  illustrious ; — 
but  an  ill  one  more  contemptible.  Vice  is  infamous,  though  in 
a  prince ; — and  virtue  honorable,  though  in  a  peasant. 

22.  What  you  keep  by  you,  you  may  mend  and  change ; — 
but  words  once  spoken  can  never  be  recalled. 

23.  What  is  the  most  constant  of  all  things  ? — hope  ; — be- 
cause it  still  remains  with  man,  after  he  has  lost  every  thing 
else. 

24.  A  just  man  should  account  nothing  more  precious  than 
his  word, — nothing  more  venerable  than  his  faith, — and  nothing 
more  sacred  than  his  promise. 

25.  A  hypocrite  is  hated  by  the  world  for  seeming  what  he 
is  not :  but  he  will  be  condemned  by  his  Creator  for  not  being 
what  he  seems. 

26.  The  greatest  friend  of  truth,  is  time, — her  greatest  enemy 
is  prejudice, — and  her  constant  companion  is  humility. 

27.  When  you  have  nothing  to  say,  say  nothing ; — a  weak 
defence  strengthens  your  opponent,  and  silence  is  less  injurious 
than  a  bad  reply. 

28.  When  the  million  applaud  you,  seriously  ask  yourself 
what  harm  you  have  done  : — when  they  censure  you,  what 
^ood  ? 

29.  Mental  pleasures  never  cloy ;  unlike  those  of  the  body, 
they  are  increased  by  repetition ;  approved  of  by  reflection ; 
and  strengthened  by  enjoyment. 

30.  Vice  stings  us,  even  in  our  pleasures, — but  virtue  con- 
soles us,  even  in  our  pains. 

31.  Let  fame  be  regarded,  but  conscience  much  more.  It  is 
an  empty  joy  to  appear  better  than  you  are ; — but  a  great  bless- 
ing to  he  what  you  ought  to  be. 


*  See  the  5th  chapter  of  Daniel. 


173  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

32.  The  first  ingredient  in  conversation,  is  truth  ; — the  next, 
good  sense  ;  the  third,  good  humour  ;  the  last,  wit. 

33.  The  man  of  virtue,  is  an  honor  to  his  country, — a  credit 
to  human  nature, — and  a  benefactor  to  the  world.  He  is  rich 
without  oppression, — charitable  without  ostentation, — courte- 
ous without  deceit, — and  brave  without  vice. 

34.  The  difference  there  is  betwixt  honor  and  honesty,  seems 
to  be  chiefly  in  the  motive.  The  honest  man  does  that  from 
duty,  which  the  man  of  honor  does  for  the  sake  of  character. 

35.  Men's  evil  manners  live  in  brass ; — their  virtues  we 
write  in  water. 

36.  Fine  sense,  and  exalted  sense,  are  not  half  so  valuable 
as  common  sense.  There  are  forty  men  of  wit  for  one  man  of 
sense  ; — and  he  that  will  carry  nothing  about  him  but  gold,  will 
be  every  day  at  a  loss  for  want  of  ready  change. 

37.  A  wise  man  will  desire  no  more  than  what  he  may  get 
justly, — use  soberly, — distribute  cheerfully, — and  live  upon 
contentedly. 

38.  You  have  obliged  a  man ; — very  well.  What  would 
you  have  more  ?  Is  not  the  consciousness  of  doing  good  a  suffi- 
cient reward  ? 

39.  Agesilaus,  king  of  Sparta,*  being  asked  the  means  of 
establishing  a  high  reputation,  answered, — "  Speak  well,  and 
act  better." 

40.  Cowards  die  many  times ;  the  valiant  never  taste  of 
death  but  once. 

41.  If  you  want  your  business  done,  go  ; — if  not,  send. 

42.  Cruel  men  are  the  greatest  lovers  of  mercy — avaricious 
men  of  generosity — and  proud  men  of  humility ; — that  is  to  say, 
— in  others, — not  in  themselves. 

43.  He  that  is  good,  will  infallibly  become  better ;  and  he 
that  is  bady  will  as  certainly  become  worse ; — for  vice,  virtue, 
and  time,  are  three  things  that  never  stand  still. 

44.  Socrates  being  asked  what  was  the  best  mode  of  gaining 
a  high  reputation,  replied,  "  To  be  what  you  appear  to  be." 

45.  If  the  spring  put  forth  no  blossoms, — in  summer  there 
will  be  no  beauty, — and  in  autumn  no  fruit.  So  if  youth  be 
trifled  away  without  improvement, — manhood  will  be  contempt- 
ible,— and  old  age  miserable. 

♦  Sparta,  a  state  of  ancient  Greece. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  173 

LESSON  LXXXVL 

Select  Paragraphs. 

\.  Be  studious,  and  you  will  be  learned.  Be  industrious  and 
frugal,  and  you  will  be  rich.  Be  sober  and  temperate,  and  you 
will  be  healthy.     Be  virtuous,  and  you  will  be  happy. 

2.  Man,  if  he  compare  himself  with  all  that  he  can  see,  is  at 
the  zenith  of  power ; — but  if  he  compare  himself  with  all  that 
he  can  conceive,  he  is  at  the  nadir  of  weakness. 

3.  We  esteem  most  things  according  to  their  intrinsic  merit ; 
— it  is  strange  man  should  be  an  exception.  We  prize  a  horse 
for  his  strength  and  courage, — not  for  his  furniture.  We  prize 
&  man  for  his  sumptuous  palace, — his  great  train, — hi^  vast 
revenue  ; — yet  these  are  his  furniture,  not  his  mind. 

4.  The  kindnesses,  which  most  men  receive  from  others,  are 
like  traces  drawn  in  the  sand.  The  breath  of  every  passion 
sweeps  them  away,  and  they  are  remembered  no  more.  But 
injuries  are  like  inscriptions  on  monuments  of  brass,  or  pillars 
of  marble,  which  endure,  unimpaired,  the  revolutions  of  time. 

5.  Man,  always  prosperous,  would  be  giddy  and  insolent ; — 
always  afflicted,  would  be  sullen  or  despondent.  Hopes  and 
fears,  joy  and  sorrow,  are  therefore,  so  blended  in  his  life,  as 
both  to  give  room  for  worldly  pursuits,  and  to  recall  from  time 
to  time  the  admonitions  of  conscience. 

6.  He,  who  would  pass  the  latter  part  of  his  life  with  honor 
and  decency,  must,  when  he  is  young,  consider  that  he  shall  one 
day  be  old, — and  remember  when  he  is  old,  that  he  has  once 
been  young. 

7.  The  pensionary  De  Witt,*  being  asked  how  he  could 
transact  such  a  variety  of  business  without  confusion,  answered, 
■ — that  he  never  did  but  one  thing  at  a  time. 

8.  He,  who  governs  his  passions,  does  more  than  he  who 
commands  armies.  Socrates,  being  one  day  offended  with  his 
servant,  said, — "  I  would  beat  you  if  1  were  not  angry." 

9.  No  rank  in  life  precludes  the  efficacy  of  a  well  timed  com- 
pliment. When  Queen  Elizabeth!  asked  an  Ambassador  how 
he  liked  her  ladies,  he  replied, — "  It  is  hard  to  judge  of  stars  in 
presence  of  the  sun." 

*  John  De  Witt,  the  famous  pensionary  of  Holland,  was  born  at  Dort,  in 
Holland,  1625.  He  was  the  greatest  genius  of  his  time,  and  the  ablest  poli- 
tician ;  but  was  barbarously  murdered  by  a  mob,  in  1672. 

t  Elizabeth,  queen  of  England,  was  born  1583,  and  commenced  her  reign 
in  1558.  She  was  a  person  of  accomplished  manners,  and  a  well  cultivated 
mind.     She  died  in  1603. 

15* 


174  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

10.  We  too  often  judge  of  men  by  the  splendor,  and  not  by 
the  merit  of  their  actions.  Alexander  demanded  of  a  pirate 
whom  he  had  taken,  by  what  right  he  infested  the  seas  ? — 
"  By  the  same  right,"  replied  he,  boldly,  "  that  you  enslave  the 
world.  I  am  called  a  robber,  because  I  have  only  one  small 
vessel ; — but  you  are  styled  a  conqueror,  because  you  command 
great  fleets  and  armies." 

11.  Francis  I.*  consulting  with  his  Generals  how  to  lead  his 
army  over  the  Alps  into  Italy, — Amarel,  his  fool,  sprung  from 
a  corner,  and  advised  him  to  consult  rather, — how  to  bring  it 
back. 

12.  Men  are  too  often  ingenious  in  making  themselves  miser- 
able, by  aggravating,  beyond  bounds,  the  evils  which  they  are 
compelled  to  endure.  "  I  will  restore  thy  daughter  again  to 
life,"  said  an  eastern  sage  to  a  prince  who  grieved  immoderate- 
ly for  the  loss  of  a  beloved  child, — "  provided  thou  art  able  to 
engrave  on  her  tomb,  the  names  of  three  persons  who  have 
never  mourned."  The  prince  made  inquiry  after  such  persons ; 
— but  found  the  inquiry  vain, — and  was  silent. 

1.3.  When  Dariusf  oflered  Alexander  ten  thousand  talents 
to  divide  Asia  equally  with  him,  he  answered, — "  the  earth 
cannot  bear  two  suns, — nor  Asia  two  kings."  Parmenio,  a 
friend  of  Alexander's,  hearing  the  great  ofier  Darius  had  made, 
said, — "  were  I  Alexander,  I  would  accept  it," — "  so -would  I," 
replied  Alexander,  "  were  I  Parmenio." 

14.  When  Agesilaus,  king  of  Sparta,  heard  any  one  praised, 
or  censured,  he  remarked,  "  that  it  was  as  necessary  to  know 
the  characters  of  the  speakers,  as  the  characters  of  those  who 
were  the  subjects  of  their  opinions." 

15.  AlcibiadesJ  was  one  day  boasting  of  his  wealth  and  im- 
mense estates  in  the  presence  of  Socrates.  This  wise  Athenian, 
in  order  to  repress  his  ostentatious  spirit,  led  him  to  a  map,  and 
desired  him  to  point  out  Attica.  After  searching  for  some  time, 
Alcibiades,  with  some  ditficulty,  discerned  it  ; — Socrates  then 
requested  him  to  look  for  his  own  estate  ; — the  young  man 
replied,  that  he  should  not  be  able  to  find  it,  in  so  small  a  space. 

*  Francis  I.,  king  of  France  in  A.  D.  1515.  He  is  known  as  the  opponent 
and  rival  of  Charles  V.,  emperor  of  Germany, — also,  as  the  patron  of  the 
arts  and  sciences.      He  died  1547. 

t  Da-ri'-us  III.,  the  last  king  of  the  ancient  Persian  Empire.  He  waa 
conquered  by  Alexander  the  Great,  and  at  last  treacherously  assassinated 
by  Bessus,  his  own  general,  B.  C.  331. 

t  Pronounced  Al-se-bi'-a-dees,  an  illustrious  Athenian  General,  and  a 
discipla  of  Socrates.     He  died  B.  C.  404,  aged  46. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  175 

"Why,  then,"  replied  Socrates,  "are  you  so  inflated  with  pride, 
concerning  a  mere  point  of  land  /"' 

16.  No  hero  makes  so  distinguished  a  figure  in  ancient  his- 
tory as  Alexander  the  Great.*  His  courage  was  undaunted, — 
his  ambition  boundless, — his  friendship  ardent, — his  taste  re- 
fined ; — and,  what  is  very  extraordinary,  he  appears  to  have 
conversed  with  the  same  fire  and  spirit  with  which  he  fought 
Philip,  his  father,  knowing  him  to  be  very  swift,  wished  him  to 
run  for  the  prize  at  the  Olympic  Games.  "  I  would  comply 
with  your  request,"  said  Alexander,  "if  kinga  Avere  to  be  my 
competitors." 

17.  L'Estrange,t  in  his  Fables,  tells  us  that  a  number  of  boys 
were  one  day  watching  frogs  at  the  side  of  a  pond  ; — and  that, 
as  any  of  them  put  their  heads  above  water,  they  pelted  them 
down  again  with  stones.  One  of  the  frogs,  appealing  to  the 
humanity  of  the  boys,  made  this  striking  observation; — "  Chil- 
dren, you  do  not  consider,  that  though  this  may  be  sport  to  you, 
it  is  death  to  us." 

18.  One  day,  when  the  moon  was  under  an  eclipse,  she 
complained  tlius  to  the  sun  of  the  discontinuance  of  his  favors  : 
"  My  dearest  friend,"  said  she,  "  why  do  you  not  shine  upon 
me  as  you  used  to  do  ?"  "Do  I  not  shine  uJDon  thee  ?"  said  the 
sun ; — "  I  am  very  sure  I  intend  it."  "  Oh  no  !"  replies  the 
moon,  "  but  I  now  perceive  the  reason.  I  see  that  dirty  planet, 
the  earth,  has  got  between  us." 

19.  To  a  man  of  an  exalted  mind,  the  forgiveness  of  injuries 
is  productive  of  more  pleasure  and  satisfaction,  than  obtaining 
vengeance.  The  emperor  Adrian,:j:  one  day,  seeing  a  person 
who  had  injured  him  in  his  former  station,  thus  addressed  him  : 
— "  You  are  safe  ; — I  am  Emperor." 

20.  Cyrus,  II  when  a  boy,  being  at  the  court  of  his  grandfather, 
Astyages,^  engaged  to  perform  the  office  of  cup-bearer  at  table. 
The  duty  of  this  officer,  required  him  to  taste  the  liquor  before 


*  A  king  of  Macedon. 

t  Pronouneed  Le-Strange,  an  English  gentleman,  born  1616,  and  died 
1705. 

t  Adrian,  a  Roman  emperor,  in  A.  D.  117.  He;  was  distinguished  for 
his  personal  accomplishments  and  mental  acquirements.  He  reigned  pros- 
perously 22  years,  and  died  in  the  63d  year  of  his  age. 

II  Cyrus  the  Great,  king  of  Persia.  He  dethroned  his  grandfather,  As- 
tyages,  established  the  Persian  empire,  took  Babylon,  liberated  the  Jews, — 
and  was  at  last  killed  in  the  battle  against  Tomyris,  queen  of  the  Massa- 
getae,  B.  C.  530. 

§  Pronounced  As-ti'-a-gees,  a  king  of  Media,  594  B.  C. 


176  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

presenting  it  to  the  king.  Cyrus,  without  performing  this  cere- 
mony, delivered  the  cup  in  a  very  graceful  manner  to  his  grand- 
father. The  king  observed  the  omission,  which  he  imputed  to 
forgetfulness.  No  !  replied  Cyrus,  I  purposely  avoided  tasting 
it, — because  I  feared  lest  it  should  contain  poison  ; — for  lately, 
at  an  entertainment,  I  observed  that  the  lords  of  your  court, 
after  drinking  it,  became  noisy,  quarrelsome,  and  frantic. 

21.  A  certain  passenger  at  sea,  had  the  curiosity  to  ask  the 
pilot  of  the  vessel,  what  death  his  father  died  of.  What  death  ! 
said  the  pilot ; — why,  he  perished  at  sea,  as  my  grandfather  did 
before  him.  And  are  you  not  afraid  of  trusting  yourself  to  an 
element  that  has  proved  thus  fatal  to  your  family  ?  Afraid  !  by 
no  means.  Is  not  your  father  dead  ?  Yes, — but  he  died  in  his 
bed.  And  why  then,  returned  the  pilot,  are  you  not  afraid  of 
trusting  yourself  in  your  bed  ? 

22.  Honor  is  unstable,  and  seldom  the  same  ; — for  she  feeds 
upon  opinion,  and  is  as  fickle  as  her  food.  But  virtue  is  uniform 
and  fixed,  because,  she  looks  for  approbation  only  from  him, 
who  is  the  same  yesterday — to-day — and  for  ever.  Honor  feeds 
us  with  air,  and  often  pulls  down  our  house  to  build  our  monu- 
ment. She  is  contracted  in  her  views ;  and  is  buffeted  by  the 
waves,  and  borne  along  by  the  whirlwind.  But  virtue  is  en- 
larged, and  infinite  in  her  hopes, — and  has  an  anchor  sure  and 
stedfast,  because  it  is  cast  in  heaven.  The  noble  Brutus*  wor- 
shipped honor,  and  in  his  zeal  mistook  her  for  virtue.  In  the 
day  of  trial  he  found  her,  but — a  shadow — and  a  name. 

23.  When  thou  docst  good,  do  it  because  it  is  good  ; — not 
because  men  esteem  it  so.  When  thou  avoidest  evil,  flee  from 
it  because  it  is  evil ; — not  because  men  speak  against  it.  Be 
hornest  for  the  love  of  honesty,  and  thou  shaltbe  uniformly  so. 
He  that  doeth  it  without  principle  is  wavering. 

24.  A  wise  man  endeavors  to  shine  in  himself; — a  fool  to 
outshine  others.  The  former  is  humbled  by  the  sense  of  his 
own  infirmities  ; — the  latter  is  lifted  up  by  the  discovery  of  those 
which  he  observes  in  others.  The  wise  man  considers  what  he 
wants  ; — and  the  fool,  what  he  abounds  in.  The  wise  man  is 
happy  when  he  gains  his  own  approbation  ; — and  the  fool, 
when  he  recommends  himself  to  the  applause  of  those  about 
him. 

2.5.  It  is  pleasant  to  be  virtuous  and  good,  because  that  is  to 
excel  many  others  ; — it  is  pleasant  to  grow  better,  because  that 

♦  Marcus  Brutus,  a  Roman  General,  engaged  in  the  conspiracy  against 
Julius  Cesar. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  177 

is  to  excel  ourselves  ; — it  is  pleasant  to  mortify  and  subdue  our 
lusts,  because  that  is  victory ; — it  is  pleasant  to  command  our 
appetites  and  passions,  and  to  keep  them  in  due  order,  within 
the  bounds  of  reason  and  religion, — because — that  is  empire. 

26.  Homer*  was  the  greater  genius  ; — Virgilf  the  better 
artist.  In  the  one,  we  most  admire  the  man  ; — in  the  other, 
the  work.  Homer  hurries  us  with  a  commanding  impetuosity 
—Virgil  leads  us  with  an  attractive  majesty.  Homer  scatters 
with  a  generous  profusion  ; — Virgil  bestows  with  a  careful 
magnificence.  Homer,  like  the  NiIe,J  pours  out  his  riches  with 
a  sudden  overflow ; — Virgil,  like  a  river  in  its  banks,  with  a 
constant  stream.  And  when  we  look  upon  their  machines, 
Homer  seems,  like  his  own  Jupiter||  in  his  terrors,  shaking 
Olympus,^ — scattering  the  lightnings, — and  firing  the  heavens ; 
—-Virgil,  like  the  same  power  in  his  benevolence,  counselling 
with  the  gods,— laying  plans  for  empires, — and  ordering  his 
whole  creation. 


LESSON  LXXXVH. 

Happiness  is  founded  in  rectitude  of  conduct. — Harris. 

1.  All  men  pursue  good,  and  would  be  happy,  if  they  knew 
how ;  not  happy  for  minutes,  and  miserable  for  hours ;  but 
happy,  if  possible,  through  every  part  of  their  existence. — 
Either,  therefore,  there  is  a  good  of  this  steady,  durable  kind, 
or  there  is  not.  If  not,  then  all  good  must  be  transient  and 
uncertain ;  and  if  so,  an  object  of  the  lowest  value,  which  can 
little  deserve  our  attention  or  inquiry. 

2.  But  if  there  be  a  better  good,  such  a  good  as  we  are  seek- 
ing, like  every  other  thing,  it  must  be  derived  from  some 
cause ;  and  that  cause  must  either  be  external,  internal,  or 
mixed ;  in  as  much  as,  except  these  three,  there  is  no  other 
possible.  Now,  a  steady,  durable  good,  cannot  be  derived 
from  an  external  cause  ;  since  all  derived  from  externals  must 
fluctuate  as  they  fluctuate. 

3.  By  the  same  rule,  it  cannot  be  derived  from  a  mixture  of 
the  two  ;  because  the  part  which  is  external,  will  proportiona- 
bly  destroy  its  essence.  What  then  remains  but  the  cause  in- 
ternal? the  very  cause  which  we  have  supposed,  when  we  place 
the  sovereign  good  in  mind, — in  rectitude  of  conduct. 

♦  A  Grecian  poet.  t  A  Latin  poet. 

t  Nile,  the  great  river  of  Egypt,  which  annually  overflows  its  banbjs. 

II  Jupiter,  the  supreme  deity  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans. 

{  Olympus,  a  mountain  in  Greece. 


ITS  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  LXXXVIIL 

Virtue  and  Piety  Mart's  highest  Interest. — Harris. 

1.  I  FIND  myself  existing  upon  a  little  spot,  surrounded  every 
way  by  an  immense,  unknown  expansion. — Where  am  I? 
What  sort  of  a  place  do  I  inhabit  ?  Is  it  exactly  accommo- 
dated in  every  instance  to  my  convenience  ?  Is  there  no  ex- 
cess of  cold,  none  of  heat,  to  offend  me  ?  Am  I  never  annoyed 
by  animals  either  of  my  own,  or  a  different  kind  ?  Is  every 
thing  subservient  to  me,  as  though  I  liad  ordered  all  myself? 
No — Jiothing  like  it — the  farthest  from  it  possible. 

2.  The  world  appears  not,  then,  originally  made  for  the  pri- 
vate convenience  of  me  alone  ? — It  does  not.  But  is  it  not  pos- 
sible so  to  accommodate  it,  by  my  own  particular  industry? 
If  to  accommodate  man  and  beast,  heaven  and  earth,  if  this  be 
beyond  me,  it  is  not  possible.  What  consequence  then  follows? 
or  can  there  be  any  other  than  this !  If  I  seek  an  interest  of 
my  own  detached  from  that  of  others,  I  seek  an  interest  which 
is  chimerical,  and  which  can  never  have  existence. 

3.  How  then  must  I  determine  ?  Have  I  no  interest  at  all? 
If  I  have  not,  I  am  stationed  here  to  no  purpose.  But  why  no 
interest  ?  Can  I  be  contented  with  none  but  one  separate  and 
detached?  Is  a  social  interest,  joined  with  others,  such  an 
absurdity  as  not  to  be  admitted  ?  The  bee,  the  beaver,  and  the 
tribes  of  herding  animals,  are  sufficient  to  convince  me,  that 
the  thing  is  somewhere  at  least  possible. 

4.  How,  then,  am  I  assured  that  it  is  not  equally  true  of  man  ? 
Admit  it;  and  what  follows?  If  so,  then  honor  and  justice 
are  my  interest;  then  the  whole  train  of  moral  virtues  are  my 
interest ;  without  some  portion  of  which,  not  even  thieves  can 
maintain  society. 

5.  But,  farther  still — I  stop  not  here — I  pursue  this  social 
interest  as  far  as  I  can  trace  my  several  relations.  I  pass  from 
my  own  stock,  my  own  neighborhood,  my  own  nation,  to  the 
whole  race  of  mankind,  as  dispersed  throughout  the  earth.  Am 
I  not  related  to  them  all,  by  the  mutual  aids  of  commerce,  by 
the  general  intercourse  of  arts  and  letters,  by  that  common 
nature  of  which  we  all  participate  ? 

6.  Again — I  must  have  food  and  clothing.  Without  a  pro- 
per genial  warmth,  I  instantly  perish.  Am  I  not  related, 
in  this  view,  to  the  very  earth  itself ;  to  the  distant  sun,  from 
whose  beams  I  derive  vigor  ?  To  that  stupendous  course  and 
order  of  the  infinite  host  of  heaven,  by  which  the  times  and 
seasons  ever  uniformly  pass  on  ? 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  179 

7.  Were  this  order  once  confounded,  I  could  hot  probably 
survive  a  moment ;  so  absolutely  do  I  depend  on  this  common 
general  welfare.  What,  then,  have  I  to  do,  but  to  enlarge 
virtue  into  piety  ?  Not  only  honor  and  justice,  and  what  I  owe 
to  man,  is  my  interest ;  but  gratitude  also,  acquiescence,  resig- 
nation, adoration,  and  all  I  owe  to  this  great  polity,  and  its 
great  Governor,  our  common  Parent 


LESSON  LXXXIX. 

Importance  of  Virtue, — Price. 

1.  ViRxrE  is  of  intrinsic  value,  and  good  desert,  and  of 
indispensable  obligation ;  not  the  creature  of  will,  but  necessary 
and  immutable  ;  not  local  or  temporary,  but  of  equal  extent 
and  antiquity  with  the  Divine  mind  ;  not  a  mode  of  sensation, 
but  everlasting  truth  ;  not  dependent  on  power,  but  the  guide 
of  all  power. 

2.  Virtue  is  the  foundation  of  honor  and  esteem,  and  the 
source  of  all  beauty,  order,  and  happiness,  in  nature.  It  is  what 
confers  value  on  all  the  other  endowments  and  qualities  of  a 
reasonable  being,  to  which  they  ought  to  be  absolutely  subser- 
vient ;  and  without  which,  the  more  eminent  they  are,  the  more 
hideous  deformities,  and  the  greater  curses,  they  become. 

3.  The  use  of  it  is  not  confined  to  any  one  stage  of  our  exist- 
ence, or  to  any  particular  situation  we  can  be  in,  but  reaches 
through  all  the  periods  and  circumstances  of  our  being.  Many 
of  the  endowments  and  talents  we  now  possess,  and  of  which 
w  e  are  too  apt  to  be  proud,  will  cease  entirely  with  the  present 
state  ;  but  this  will  be  our  ornament  and  dignity,  in  every  iuture 
state,  to  which  we  may  be  removed. 

4.  Beauty  and  wit  will  die,  learning  will  vanish  away,  and 
all  the  arts  of  life  be  soon  forgot ;  but  virtue  will  remain  forever. 
This  unites  us  to  the  whole  rational  creation  ;  and  fits  us  for 
conversing  with  any  order  of  superior  natures,  and  for  a  place 
in  any  part  of  God's  works.  It  procures  us  the  approbation 
and  love  of  all  wise  and  good  beings,  and  renders  them  our 
allies  and  friends. 

5.  But  what  is  of  unspeakable  greater  consequence,  is,  that 
it  makes  God  our  friend,  assimilates  and  unites  our  minds  to 
his,  and  engages  his  Almighty  power  in  our  defence.  Superior 
beings  of  all  ranks  are  bound  by  it,  no  less  than  ourselves. — 
It  has  the  same  authority  in  all  worlds  that  it  has  in  this. 


180  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

6.  The  further  any  being  is  advanced  in  excellence  and  per- 
fection, the  greater  is  his  attachment  to  it,  and  the  more  he  is 
under  its  influence.  To  say  no  more,  it  is  the  law  of  the  whole 
universe,  it  stands  first  in  the  estimation  of  the  Deity ;  its 
original  is  his  nature,  and  it  is  the  very  object  that  makes  him 
lovely. 

7.  Such  is  the  importance  of  virtue. — Of  what  consequence, 
therefore,  is  it  that  we  practise  it  ?  There  is  no  argument  or 
motive,  in  any  respect  fitted  to  influence  a  reasonable  mind, 
which  does  not  call  us  to  this.  One  virtuous  disposition  of  soul 
is  preferable  to  the  greatest  natural  accomplishments  and  abili- 
ties, and  of  more  value  than  all  the  treasures  of  the  world. 

8.  If  you  are  wise,  then  study  virtue,  and  contemn  every 
thing  that  can  come  in  competition  with  it.     Remember  that 
nothing  else  deserves  one  anxious  thought  or  wish.    Remember  - 
that  this  alone  is  honor,  glory,  wealth,  and  happiness.     Secure 
this,  and  you  secure  every  thing.     Lose  this,  and  all  is  lost 


LESSON  XC. 

The  Folly  of  Inconsistent  Expectations. — Aikin. 

1.  This  world  may  be  considered  as  a  great  mart  of  com- 
merce, where  fortune  exposes  to  our  view  various  commodities; 
riches,  ease,  tranquillity,  fame,  integrity,  knowledge.  Every 
thing  is  marked  at  a  settled  price.  Our  time,  our  labor,  our 
ingenuity,  is  so  much  ready  money,  which  we  are  to  lay  out  to 
the  best  advantage. 

2.  Examine,  compare,  choose,  reject ;  but  stand  to  your  own 
judgment ;  and  do  not,  like  children,  when  you  have  purchased 
one  thing,  repine  that  you  do  not  possess  another,  which  you 
did  not  pin-chase.  Such  is  the  force  of  well  regulated  industry, 
that  a  steady  and  vigorous  exertion  of  our  faculties,  directed  to 
one  end,  will  generally  insure  success. 

,  3.  Would  you,  for  instance,  be  rich  ?  Do  you  think  that  sin- 
gle point  worth  the  sacrifice  of  every  thing  else?  You  may  then 
be  rich.  Thousands  have  become  so  from  the  lowest  begin- 
nings, by  toil,  and  patient  diligence,  and  attention  to  the  mi- 
nutest articles  of  expense  and  profit.  But  you  must  give  up 
the  pleasures  of  leisure,  of  a  vacant  mind,  of  a  free  unsuspi- 
cious temper. 

4.  If  you  preserve  your  integrity,  it  must  be  a  coarse-spun 
and  vulgar  honesty.  Those  high  and  lofty  notions  of  morals, 
which  you  brought  with  you  from  the  schools,  must  be  consider- 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  181 

ably  lowered,  and  mixed  with  the  baser  alloy  of  a  jealous  and 
worldly  minded  prudence. 

5.  You  must  learn  to  do  hard,  if  not  unjust  things  ;  and  as  for 
the  nice  embarrassments  of  a  delicate  and  ingenuous  spirit,  it  is 
necessary  for  you  to  get  rid  of  them  as  fast  as  possible.  You 
must  shut  your  heart  against  the  Muses,  and  be  content  to  feed 
your  understanding  with  plain  household  truths. 

6.  In  short,  you  must  not  attempt  to  enlarge  your  ideas,  or 
polish  your  taste,  or  refine  your  sentiments  ;  but  must  keep  on 
in  one  beaten  track,  without  turning  aside,  either  to  the  right 
hand  or  to  the  left. — "  But  I  cannot  submit  to  drudgery  like 
this — I  feel  a  spirit  above  it."  It  is  well ;  be  above  it  then ; 
only  do  not  repine  that  you  are  not  rich. 

7.  Is  knowledge  the  pearl  of  price  ?  That,  too,  may  be  pur- 
chased— by  steady  application,  and  long  solitary  hours  of  study 
and  reflection. — Bestow  these,  and  you  shall  be  learned.  "But," 
says  the  man  of  letters,  "  what  a  hardship  it  is,  that  many  an 
illiterate  fellow,  who  cannot  construe  the  motto  of  the  arms  on 
his  coach,  shall  raise  a  fortune  and  make  a  figure,  while  I  hare 
little  more  than  the  common  conveniencies  of  life  !" 

8.  Was  it  in  order  to  raise  a  fortune,  that  you  consumed  the 
sprightly  hours  of  youth  in  study  and  retirement  ?  Was  it  to  be 
rich,  that  you  grew  pale  over  the  midnight  lamp,  and  distilled 
the  sweetness  from  the  Greek  and  Roman  spring  ?  You  have 
then  mistaken  your  path,  and  ill  employed  your  industry. 

9.  "  What  reward  have  I  then  for  all  my  labors?"  What 
reward  !  a  large,  comprehensive  soul,  well  purged  from  vulgar 
fears,  and  perturbations,  and  prejudices  ;  abie  to  comprehend 
and  interpret  the  works  of  man — of  God.  A  rich,  flourishing, 
cultivated  mind,  pregnant  with  inexhaustible  stores  of  entertain- 
ment and  reflection.  A  perpetual  spring  of  fresh  ideas,  and  the 
conscious  dignity  of  superior  intelligence.  Good  Heaven  !  and 
what  reward  can  you  ask  besides  ? 

10.  "But  is  it  not  some  reproach  upon  the  Economy  of  Prov- 
idence, that  such  a  one,  who  is  a  mean,  dirty  fellow,  should  have 
amassed  wealth  enough  to  buy  half  a  nation  !"  Not  in  the  least. 
He  made  himself  a  mean  dirty  fellow  for  that  very  end.  He 
has  paid  his  health,  his  conscience,  his  liberty,  for  it ;  and  will 
you  envy  his  bargain  ?  Will  you  hang  your  head  and  blush  in 
his  presence,  because  he  outshines  you  in  equipage  and  show  ? 

11.  Lift  up  your  brow,  with  a  noble  confidence,  and  say  to 
yourself,  "  I  have  not  these  things,  it  is  true  ;  but  it  is  because  1 
nave  not  sought,  because  I  have  not  desired  them  ;  it  is  because 

16 


183  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

I  possess  sompthing  better ;  I  have  chosen  my  lot ;  I  am  con- 
tent and  satisfied." 

12.  You  are  a  modest  man — you  love  quiet  and  independ- 
ence, and  have  a  delicacy  and  reserve  in  your  temper,  which 
renders  it  im.possible  for  you  to  elbow  your  way  in  the  world, 
and  be  the  herald  of  your  own  merits.  Be  content,  then,  with 
a  modest  retirement,  with  the  esteem  of  your  intimate  friends, 
with  the  praises  of  a  blameless  heart,  and  a  delicate,  ingenuous 
spirit ;  but  resign  the  splendid  distinctions  of  the  world  to  those 
who  can  better  scramble  for  thern. 

13.  The  man  whose  tender  sensibility  of  conscience  and 
strict  regard  to  the  rules  of  morality,  makes  him,  scrupulous  and 
fearful  of  oftendino-,  is  often  heard  to  complain  of  the  disadvan- 
tages under  which  he  lies,  in  every  path  of  honor  and  profit. — 
"  Could  I  but  get  over  some  nice  points,  and  conform  to  the 
practice  and  opinion  of  those  about  me,  I  mifrht  stand  as  fair  a 
chance  as  others  for  dignities  and  preferment." 

14.  And  why  can  you  not  ?  \\  hat  hinders  you  from  discard- 
ing this  troublesome  scrupulosity  of  yours  v.'hich  stand -so  griev- 
ously in  your  way?  If  it  be  a  small  thing  to  enjoy  a  healthful 
mind,  sound  at  the  very  core,  that  does  not  shrink  from  the 
keenest  inspection  ;  inward  freedom  from  remorse  and  pertur- 
bation ;  unsullied  whiteness  and  simplicity  of  manners  ;  if  you 
think  these  advantages  an  inadecjuate  recompense  for  what  you 
resign,  dismiss  your  scruyjles  this  histant,  and  be  a  slave  mer- 
chant, a  director — or  what  you  please. 


LESSON  XCL 

On  the  Beauties  of  the  Psalms. — Horne. 

1.  Greatness  confers  no  exemption  from  the  cares  and  sor- 
rows of  life  :  its  share  of  them  frequentlv  hears  a  melancholy 
proportion  to  its  exaltation.  This  the  monarch*  of  Israel 
experienced.  .  He  souirht  in  piety,  that  peace  which  he  could 
not  find  in  empire:  and  alh^viated  the  discniietudes  of  state, 
with  the  exercises  of  devotion.  His  invnluahle  Psnhns  convey 
those  comforts  to  others,  which  they  aflbrded  to  himself. 

2.  Composed  upon  particular  occasions,  yet  designed  for 
general  use;  delivered  out  as  services  fur  L-^raelites  under  the 
Law,  yet  no  less  adapted  to  the  circunistances  of  Christians 
under  the  Gospel ;  they  present  relii^ion  to  us  in  the  most 
engaging  dress  ;  communicating  truths  which  philosophy  could 

*  Kins  David. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  183 

nerer  investigate,  in  a  style  which  poetry  can  never  equal  ; 
while  history  is  made  the  vehicle  of  prophecy,  and  creation 
lends  all  its  charms  to  paint  the  glories  of  redemption. 

3.  Calculated  alike  to  profit  and  to  please,  they  inform  the 
understanding,  elevate  the  affections,  and  entertain  the  imagi- 
nation. Indited  under  the  influence  of  him,  to  whom  all  hearts 
are  known,  and  all  events  foreknown,  they  suit  mankind  in  all 
situations  ;  grateful  as  the  manna  which  descended  from  above, 
and  conformed  itself  to  every  palate. 

4.  The  fairest  productions  of  human  wit,  after  a  few  perusals, 
like  gathered  flowers,  wither  in  our  hands,  and  lose  their  fra- 
grancy :  but  these  unfading  plants  of  Paradise  become,  as  we 
are  accustomed  to  them,  still  more  and  more  beautiful ;  their 
bloom  appears  to  be  daily  heightened  ;  fresh  odors  are  emitted, 
and  new  sweets  extracted  from  them.  He  who  has  once  tasted 
their  excellencies,  will  desire  to  taste  them  again  ;  and  he  who 
tastes  them  oftenest,  ^vili  relish  them  best. 

5.  And  novr,  could  the  author  flatter  himself,  that  any  one 
woiild  take  half  the  pleasure  in  reading  his  work,  which  he  has 
taken  in  writing  it,  he  would  not  fear  the  loss  of  his  labor. 
The  employment  detached  him  from  the  bustle  and  hurry  of 
life,  the  din  of  politics,  and  the  noise  of  folly.  Vanity  and 
vexation  flew  away  for  a  season  :  care  and  disquietude  came 
not  near  his  dwelling. — He  arose,  fresh  as  the  morning,  to  his 
task  ;  the  silence  of  the  night  invited  him  to  pursue  it ;  and  he 
can  truly  say,  that  food  and  rest  were  not  preferred  before  it. 

6.  Every  psalm  improved  infinitely  upon  his  acquaintance 
with  it,  and  no  one  gave  him  uneasiness  but  the  last :  for  then 
he  grieved  tliat  his  work  was  done.  Happier  hours  than  those 
which  have  been  spent  in  these  meditations  on  the  songs  of 
Sion,  he  never  expects  to  see  in  this  world.  Very  pleasantly 
did  they  pass  ;  the}^  moved  smoothly  and  swiftly  along :  for 
when  thus  engaged,  he  counted  no  time.  They  are  gone,  but 
they  have  left  a  relish  and  a  fragrance  upon  the  mind  ;  and  the 
Ipmembrance  of  them  is  sweet. 


LESSON  XCIL 

Two  Voices  from  the  Grave, — Karamsin. 

First  Voice. 

\,  How  frightful  the  grave  !  how  deserted  and  drear ! 
With  the  ho  wis  of  the  storm- wind, — the  creaks  of  the  bier, 
And  the  white  bones  all  cluttering  together  ! 


184  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Second  Voice. 

2.  How  peaceful  the  grave  !  its  quiet  how  deep  ! 
Its  zephyrs  breathe  calmly,  and  soft  is  its  sleep, 

And  flowrets  perfume  it  with  ether. 

First  Voice, 

3.  There  riots  the  blood-crested  worm  on  the  dead, 
And  the  yellow  skull  serves  the  foul  toad  for  a  bed, 

And  snakes  in  its  nettle  weeds  hiss. 

Second  Voice. 

4.  How  lovely,  how  sweet  the  repose  of  the  tomb  ! 
No  tempests  are  there  ; — but  the  nightingales  come. 

And  sing  their  sweet  chorus  of  bliss. 

First  Voice. 

5.  The  ravens  of  night  flap  their  wings  o'er  the  grave  ; 
'Tis  the  vulture's  abode  ; — 'tis  the  wolfs  dreary  cave. 

Where  they  tear  up  the  dead  with  their  fangs. 

Second  Voice. 

6.  There  the  cony,*  at  evening,  disports  with  his  love. 
Or  rests  on  the  sod  ;  while  the  turtlesf  above. 

Repose  on  the  bough  that  o'erhangs. 

First  Voice, 

7.  There  darkness  and  dampness,  with  poisonous  breath, 
And  loathsome  decay,  fill  the  dwelHng  of  death  ; 

The  trees  are  all  barren  and  bare. 

Second  Voice. 

8.  O !  soft  are  the  breezes  that  play  round  the  tomb. 
And  sweet  with  the  violet's  wafted  perfume, 

With  lilies  and  jessamine  fair. 

First  Voice. 

9.  The  pilgrim  who  reaches  this  valley  of  tears, 
Would  fain  hurry  by  ;  and  with  trembling  and  fears. 

He  is  launched  on  the  wreck-covered  river. 

Second  Voice. 

10.  Here  the  traveller,  worn  with  life's  pilgrimage  dreary, 
Lays  down  his  rude  stafl^,  like  one  that  is  weary. 

And  sweetly  reposes  for  ever. 

♦  Cony,  a  rabbit.  t  Turtles,  turtle-doves. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  185 

LESSON  XCIIL 

Tlie  Battle  of  Linden  * — Campbell. 

\.  On  Linden,  when  the  sun  was  low, 
All  bloodless  lay  the  untrodden  snow, 
And  dark  as  winter,  was  the  flow 
Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 

2.  But  Linden  saw  another  sight, 
When  the  drum  beat,  at  dead  of  night. 
Commanding  fires  of  death  to  light 

The  darkness  of  her  scenery, 

3.  By  torch  and  trumpet  fast  array'd, 
Each  horseman  drew  his  battle  blade. 
And  furious  every  charger  neigh'd, 

To  join  the  dreadful  revelry. 

4.  Then  shook  the  hills  with  thunder  riv'n, 
Then  rush'd  the  steed  to  battle  driv'n, 
And  louder  than  the  bolts  of  heaven, 

Far  flash'd  the  red  artillery. 

5.  And  redder  yet  those  fires  shall  glow, 
On  Linden's  hills  of  blood-stain'd  snow, 
And  darker  yet  shall  be  the  flow 

Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 

6.  'Tis  morn,  but  scarce  yon  lurid  sun 
Can  pierce  the  war-clouds,  rolling  dun, 
Where  furious  Frank,  and  fiery  Hun, 

Shout  in  their  sulphurous  canopy. 

7.  The  combat  deepens.     On,  ye  brave, 
Who  rush  to  glory,  or  the  grave  ! 
Wave  Munich,!  all  thy  banners  wave  ! 

And  charge  vvitli  all  thy  chivalry  ! 

8.  Few,  few  shall  part  where  many  meet ! 
The  snow  shall  be  their  winding  sheet, 
And  every  turf  beneath  their  feet. 

Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulchre. 


♦  Hohenlinden,  a  town  in  Austria,  famous  for  the  defeat  of  the  Austri- 
ans,  December  3d,  1800,  b}-  the  French  under  Moreau. 
t  Pronounced  Mu'-nick,  a  city  20  miles  west  of  Hohenlinden. 

16* 


196  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  XCIV. 

The  Indian  Chief. — Anonymous. 

The  following  poem  is  founded  on  a  traditionary  story  which  is  common  in 

the  neighborhood  of  the  Falls  of  Niagara. 

1.  The  rain  fell  in  torrents,  the  thunder  roll'd  deep, 
And  silenc'd  the  cataract's  roar  ; 
But  neither  the  night  nor  the  tempest  could  keep 
The  warrior  chieftain  on  shore. 

3.  The  war  shout  has  sounded,  the  stream  must  be  cross'd ; 
Why  lingers  the  leader  afar  ! 
*Twere  better  his  life  than  his  glory  be  lost ; 
He  never  came  late  to  the  war. 

3.  He  seiz'd  a  canoe  as  he  sprang  from  the  rock, 

But  fast  as  the  shore  fled  his  reach, 
The  mountain  wave  scem'd  all  his  efforts  to  mock, 
And  dash'd  the  canoe  on  the  beach. 

4.  "  Great  Spirit,"  he  cried, "  shall  the  batHe  be  given, 

And  all  but  their  leader  be  there  ? 
May  this  struggle  land  me  with  them  or  in  heaven !" 
And  he  push'd  with  the  strength  of  despair. 

5.  He  has  quitted  the  shore,  he  has  gained  the  deep, 

His  guide  is  the  lightning  alone  ; 
But  he  felt  not  with  fast,  irresistible  sweep. 
The  rapids  were  bearing  him  down. 

6.  But  the  cataract's  roar  with  the  thunder  now  vied ; 

"  O  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  !" 
He  spoke,  and  just  turn'd  to  the  cataract's  side, 
As  the  lightning  flash'd  down  the  abyss. 

7.  All  the  might  of  his  arm  to  one  effort  was  given, 

At  self  preservation's  command  ; 
But  the  treacherous  oar  with  the  effort  was  riven. 
And  the  fragment  remain'd  in  his  hand. 

8.  "Be  it  so,"  cry'd  the  warrior,  taking  his  seat. 

And  folding  his  bow  to  his  breast ; 
"  Let  the  cataract  shroud  my  pale  corse  with  its  sheet, 
And  its  roai'  lull  my  spirit  to  rest. 

0,  "The  prospect  of  death  with  the  brave  I  have  borne, 
I  shrink  not  to  bear  it  alone ; 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  187 

I  have  often  fac'd  death  when  the  hope  was  forlorn, 
But  I  shrink  not  to  face  hhn  with  none." 

10.  The  thunder  was  hush'd,  and  the  battle  field  stain'd, 
When  the  sun  met  the  war-wearied  eye, 
But  no  trace  of  the  boat,  or  the  chieftain  remain' d — 
Though  his  bow  was  still  seen  in  the  sky. 


LESSON  XCV. 

The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore* — Rev.  C.  Wolfe. 

1.  Not  a  drum  was  heard,  not  a  funeral  note, 

As  his  corse  to  the  ramparts  we  hurried  ; 
Not  a  soldier  discharged  his  farewell  shot 
O'er  the  grave  where  our  Hero  was  buried. 

2.  We  buried  him  darkly ;  at  dead  of  night. 

The  sods  with  our  bayonets  turning ; 
By  the  struggling  moon-beams'  misty  light, 
And  the  lantern  dimly  burning. 

3.  No  useless  coffin  enclosed  his  breast, 

Nor  in  sheet  nor  in  shroud  we  wound  him ; 
But  he  lay — like  a  warrior  taking  his  rest — 
With  his  martial  cloak  around  him  ! 

4.  Few  and  short  were  the  prayers  we  said. 

And  we  spoke  not  a  word  of  sorrow ; 
But  we  steadfastly  gazed  on  the  face  of  the  dead, 
And  we  bitterly  thought  of  the  morrow — 

5.  We  thought — as  we  hollowed  his  narrow  bed, 

And  smoothed  down  his  lonely  pillow — 
How  the  foe  and  the  stranger  would  tread  o'er  his  head. 
And  we  far  away  on  the  billow ! 

6.  "  Lightly  they'll  talk  of  the  spirit  that's  gone, 

And  o'er  his  cold  ashes  upbraid  him  ; 
But  nothing  he'll  reck,  if  they  let  him  sleep  on  ^ 

In  the  grave  where  a  Briton  has  laid  him." 

7.  But  half  of  our  heavy  task  was  done, 

When  the  clock  tolled  the  hour  for  retirino-, 

♦  A  gallant  British  General,  killed  by  the  French  in  battle,  at  CoraniML 
in  Spain,  Jan.  16th,  1809. 


188  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

And  we  heard  the  distant  and  random  gun, 
That  the  foe  was  suddenly  firing — 

8.  Slov/ly  and  sacHy  we  laid  him  down, 

From  the  field  of  his  fame  fresh  and  gory ! 
We  carved  not  a  line,  we  raised  not  a  stone, 
But  we  left  him — alone  with  his  glory  ! 


LESSON  XCVI. 

Boadicea* — Cowper. 

\.  When  the  British  warrior  queen. 
Bleeding  from  the  Roman    rods, 
Sought,  \nth  an  indignant  mien, 
Counsel  of  her  country's  gods, 

2.  Sage  beneath  the  spreading  oak 

Sat  the  Druid, t  hoary  chief; 
Ev'ry  burning  word  he  spoke 
Full  of  rage,  and  full  of  grief. 

3.  "Princess  !  if  our  aged  eyes 

Weep  upon  thy  matchless  wrongs, 
'Tis  because  resentment  ties 
All  the  terrors  of  our  tongues. 

4.  "  Rome  shall  perish — write  that  word 

In  the  blood  that  she  has  spilt ; 
Perish,  hopeless  and  abhorr'd. 
Deep  in  ruin  as  in  guilt. 

5.  "  Rome,  for  empire  far  renovv^n'd. 

Tramples  on  a  thousand  states ; 
Soon  her  pride  shall  kiss  the  ground — 
Hark  !  the  Gaul  is  at  her  gates! 

6.  "  Other  Romans  shall  arise, 

Heedless  of  a  soldier's  name  ; 
Sounds,  not  arms,  shall  \\\n  the  prizCi 
Harmony  the  path  to  fame. 

7.  "  Then  the  progeny  that  springs 

From  the  forests  of  our  land, 

*  Boadicea  was  queen  of  the  Iceni,  in  Britain,     She  was  defeated  and 
conquered  by  the  Romans,  A.  D.  59. 
t  A  Priest  of  the  ancient  Britons. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  189 

Arm'd  with  thunder,  clad  with  wings, 
Shall  a  wider  world  command. 

8.  "  Regions  Cesar*  never  knew 

Thy  posterity  shall  sway  ; 
Where  his  eagles  never  flew, 
None  invincible  as  they." 

9.  Such  the  bard's  prophetic  words. 

Pregnant  with  celestial  fire  ; 
Bending  as  he  swept  the  chords 
Of  his  sweet  but  awful  lyre. 

10.  She,  with  all  a  monarch's  pride, 

Feh  them  in  her  bosom  glow  : 
Rush'd  to  battle,  fought  and  died  ; 
Dying,  hurl'd  them  at  the  foe. 

11.  "Ruffians,  pitiless  as  proud, 

Heav'n  awards  the  vengeance  due : 
Empire  is  on  us  bestow'd. 

Shame  and  ruin  wait  for  you. 


LESSON  XCVII. 

Tlie  Common  Lot. —  Montgomery. 
• 

1.  Once  in  a  flight  of  ages  past. 

There  lived  a  man  : — and  who  was  he  ? 
— Mortal  !  howe'er  thy  lot  be  cast, 
That  man  resembled  Thee. 

2.  Unknown  the  region  of  his  birth  ; 
The  land  in  which  he  died  unknown  ; 
His  name  hath  perish'd  from  the  earth ; 
This  truth  survives  alone  : — 

3.  That  joy  and  grief,  and  hope  and  fear, 
Alternate  trimnph'd  in  his  breast ; 
His  bliss  and  wo, — a  smile,  a  tear  ! 
— Oblivion  hides  the  rest. 

4.  The  bounding  pulse,  the  languid  limb, 
The  changing  spirits'  rise  and  fall ; 


♦Julius  Cesar,  a  Roman  General.  He  was  the  first  Roman  that  invaded 
Britain,  which  he  twice  reduced  to  apparent  subjection.  He  was  assassi- 
nated by  conspirators,  B.  C.  43. 


190  NATIOINAL  PRECEPTOR. 

We  knoAV'  that  these  were  felt  by  him, 
For  these  are  felt  by  all. 

5.  He  siiffer'd — but  his  pano-s  are  o'er  ; 
Enjoy' d — but  his  delights  are  fled  ; 

Had  friends — his  friends  are  now  no  more  ; 
And  foes — his  foes  are  dead. 

6.  He  lov'd — but  whom  he  lov'd,  the  grave 
Hath  lost  in  its  unconscious  womb  : 

O  she  was  fair! — but  nought  could  save 
Her  beauty  from  the  tomb. 

7.  The  rolling  seasons,  day  and  night, 

Sun,  moon,  and  stars,  the  earth  and  main, 
Erewliile  his  portion,  life  and  light, 
To  him  exist  in  vain. 

8.  He  saw  whatever  thnu  hast  seen  ; 
Encounter'd  all  that  troubles  thee; 
He  was — whatever  thnu  hast  been  ; 
He  is  what  thou  shalt  he. 

9.  The  clouds  and  sunbeams,  o'er  his  eye 
That  once  their  shades  and  glory  threw. 
Have  left,  in  yonder  silent  sky. 

No  vestige  where  they  flew. 

10.  The  annals  of  the  human  race. 
Their  ruins,  since  tlie  world  began. 
Of  HIM  aftbrd  no  other  trace 
Than  this — there  lived  a  man  ! 


LESSON  XCVIII. 

On  the  Irresolution  of  Youth. — Goldsmith. 

1.  The  most  usual  way  among  young  men,  who  have  no 
resolution  of  their  own,  is,  first  to  ask  one  friend's  advice,  and 
follow'  it  for  some  time  ;  then  to  ask  advice  of  another,  and  turn 
to  that ;  so  of  a  third  ;  still  unsteady,  always  changing.  How- 
ever, everv  chancre  of  tliis  nature  is  for  the  worse. 

2.  People  may  tell  you  of  your  being  unfit  for  some  peculiar 
occupations  in  life  ;  but  heed  them  not ;  whatever  employment 
you  follow^  with  perseverance  and  assiduity,  will  be  found  fit 
for  you  ;  it  will  be  your  support  in  youth,  and  comfort  in  age. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  191 

3.  In  learning  the  useful  part  of  every  profession,  very  mod- 
erate abilities  will  suffice  :  great  abilities  are  generally  obnox- 
ious to  the  possessor.  Life  lias  been  compared  to  a  race ; 
but  the  allusion  still  improves,  by  observing-,  that  the  most 
swift  are  ever  the  most  apt  to  stray  from  the  course. 

4.  To  know  one  profession  only,  is  enough  fcr  v>iie  man  to 
know ;  and  this,  whatever  the  professors  may  tell  you  to  the 
contrary,  is  soon  learned.  Be  contented,  therefore,  with  one 
good  employment ;  for  if  you  understand  two  at  a  time,  people 
will  give  you  no  business  ijj  either. 

5.  A  conjurer  and  a  tailor  once  hapened  to  converse  togeth- 
er. "  Alas  !"  cries  the  tailor,  "  what  an  unhappy  poor  creature 
am  I !  If  people  ever  take  into  their  heads  to  live  without  clothes, 
I  am  undone ;  I  have  no  other  trade  to  have  recourse  to." — 
"  Indeed,  friend,  I  pity  you  sincerely,"  replies  the  conjurer ; 
"  but,  thank  Heaven,  things  are  not  o^uite  so  bad  with  me  ; 
for,  if  one  trick  should  fail,  I  have  a  hundred  tricks  more  for 
them  yet.  However,  if  at  any  time  you  are  reduced  to  beg- 
gary, apply  to  me,  and  I  will  relieve  you." 

6.  A  famine  overspread  the  land ;  the  tailor  made  a  shift  to 
live,  because  his  customers  could  not  be  Avithout  clothes ;  but 
the  poor  conjurer,  with  all  his  hundred  tricks,  could  find  none 
that  had  money  to  throw  away  ;  it  was  in  vain  that  he  promised 
to  eat  fire,  or  to  vomit  pins  ;  no  single  creature  would  relieve 
him,  till  he  was  at  last  obliged  to  beg  from  the  very  tailor  whose 
calling  he  had  formerly  despised. 

7.  There  are  no  obstructions  more  fatal  to  fortune  than  pride 
and  resentment.  If  you  must  resent  injuries  at  all,  at  least  sup- 
press your  indignation  till  you  become  rich,  and  then  show 
away.  The  resentment  of  a  poor  man  is  like  the  efforts  of  a 
harmless  insect  to  sting;  it  may  get  him  crushed,  but  cannot 
defend  him.  Who  values  that  anger  which  is  consumed  only 
in  empty  menaces  ? 

8.  Once  upon  a  time,  a  goose  fed  its  young  by  a  pond  side  ; 
and  a  goose,  in  such  circumstances,  is  always  extreniely  proud, 
and  excessively  punctilious.  If  any  other  animal,  without  the 
least  design  to  offend,  happened  to  pass  that  way,  the  goose 
was  immediately  at  it.  "The  pond,"  she  said,  "  was  her's,  and 
she  would  maintain  her  right  in  it,  and  support  her  honor,  while 
she  had  a  bill  to  hiss,  or  a  wing  to  flutter." 

9.  In  this  manner  she  drove  away  ducks,  pigs,  and  chickens; 
nay,  even  the  insidious  cat  was  seen  to  scream.  A  lounging 
mastiff,  however,  happened  to  pass  by,  and  thought  it  no  harm 


193  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

if  he  should  lap  a  little  of  the  water,  as  he  was  thirsty.  The 
guardian  goose  flew  at  him  like  a  fury,  pecked  at  him  with  her 
beak,  and  flapped  him  with  her  wings. 

10.  The  dog  grew  angry,  and  had  twenty  times  a  mind  to 
give  her  a  sly  snap,  but  suppressing  his  indignation,  because 
his  master  was  nigh,  "A  pox  take  thee,"  cried  he,  "for a  fool; 
sure  those  who  have  neither  strength  nor  weapons  to  fight,  at 
least,  should  be  civil."  So  saying,  he  went  forward  to  the 
pond,  quenched  his  thirst  in  spite  of  the  goose,  and  followed 
his  master. 

11.  Another  obstruction  to  the  fortune  of  youth  is,  that  Avhile 
they  are  willing  to  take  offence  from  none,  they  are  also  equally 
desirous  of  giving  nobody  offence.  From  hence  they  endeavor 
to  please  all,  comply  with  every  request,  and  attempt  to  suit 
themselves  to  every  company;  have  no  will  of  their  own;  but, 
like  wax,  catch  every  contiguous  impression.  By  thus  attempt- 
ing to  give  universal  satisfaction,  they  at  last  find  themselves 
miserably  disappointed.  To  bring  the  generality  of  admirers 
on  our  side,  it  is  sufficient  to  attempt  pleasing  a  very  few. 

12.  A  painter  of  eminence  was  once  resolved  to  finish  a 
piece  which  should  please  the  whole  world.  When,  therefore, 
he  had  drawn  a  picture  in  which  his  utmost  skill  was  exhausted. 
It  was  exposed  in  the  public  market  place,  with  directions  at 
the  bottom  for  every  spectator  to  mark,  with  a  brush  that  lay 
by,  every  limb  and  feature  that  seemed  erroneous. 

13.  The  spectators  came,  and  in  general  applauded:  but 
each,  willing  to  show  his  talent  at  criticism,  stigmatized  what- 
ever he  thought  proper.  At  evening,  when  the  painter  came, 
he  was  mortified  to  find  the  picture  one  universal  blot;  not  a 
single  stroke  that  had  not  the  marks  of  disapprobation. 

14.  Not  satisfied  with  this  trial,  the  next  day  he  was  resolved 
to  try  them  in  a  different  manner;  and  exposing  his  picture  as 
before,  desired  that  every  spectator  would  mark  those  beauties 
he  approved  or  admired. 

15.  The  people  complied;  and  the  artist  returning,  found 
his  picture  covered  with  the  marks  of  beauty;  every  stroke 
that  had  yesterday  been  condemned,  now  received  the  charac- 
ter of  approbation.  "  Well,"  cries  the  painter,  "  I  now  find, 
that  the  best  way  to  please  all  the  world,  is  to  attempt  pleasing 
one  half  of  it." 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  193 

LESSON  XCIX. 

The  Hero  and  the  Sage, — Anonymous. 

\.  A  WARRIOR,*  who  had  been  the  successful  commander  of 
armies,  on  boasting  of  the  thousands  he  had  slain  in  the  field, 
or  cut  off  by  stratagem,  roused  the  indignant  but  humane  feel^ 
ings  of  a  Sage,  who  unawed  by  military  prowess,  thus  rebuked 
the  insolence  of  his  triumph  :  "You  seem  to  exult.  Sir,  in  the 
destruction  of  your  kind,  and  to  recapitulate  with  satisfaction 
the  numbers  you  have  deprived  of  life,  or  rendered  miserable. 
As  a  man,  I  blush  for  you ;  as  a  philosopher,  I  pity  you ;  as  a 
christian,  I  despise  you." 

2.  The  hero  reddened  with  wrath :  he  frowned  with  eon- 
tempt;  but  he  did  not  yet  open  his  lips.  "I  am  patriot  enough," 
continued  the  Sage,  "  to  wish  well  to  the  arms  of  my  country. 
I  honor  her  valiant  sons  who  support  her  glory  and  independ- 
ence, and  who  risk  their  lives  in  her  defence  ;  but  however 
meritorious  this  may  be,  in  a  just  cause,  the  truly  brave  will 
lament  the  cruel  necessity  they  are  under  of  sacrificing  their 
fellow-men ;  and  the  generous  will  rather  commiserate  than 
triumph. 

3.  "I  never  read  of  a  battle,  of  the  destruction  of  thousands 
and  tens  of  thousands,  but  I  involuntarily  enter  into  calculations 
on  the  extent  of  misery  which  then  ensues.  The  victims  of  the 
sword  are,  perhaps,  least  the  objects  of  pity ;  thev  have  fallen 
by  an  iastant  death,  and  are  removed  from  the  consciousness 
of  the  woes  they  have  left  behind.  I  extend  my  views  to  their 
surviving"  relatives  and  friends.  I  bewail  the  lacerated  ties  of 
nature.  I  sympathize  with  the  widow  and  the  orphan.  My 
heart  bleeds  for  parental  agonies.  I  depict  the  warm  vows  of 
a  genuine  affeciion  for  ever  lost;  the  silent  throb  of  exquisite 
anguish;  the  tear  which  perhaps  is  forbidden  to  flow;  and, 
from  such  a  contemplation,  I  turn  away  with  a  sensibility  that 
represses  exultation  for  victory,  hov^ever  briiiiaiit,  and  for  suc- 
cess, however  complete." 

4.  The  warrior  clapped  his  hand  on  his  sword ;  he  looked 
with  indignation,  but  still  was  mute.  The  Sage  went  on.  "  I 
almost  forget  the  name  of  enemy,  when  I  reflect  on  the  misery 
of  man.  The  malignant  passions  that  excite  hostilities,  between 
nations  or  individuals,  seldom  return  on  the  ao-gressor's  heads. 
Were  this  the  case,  moral  justice  would  be  satisfied,  and  reason 
would  have  less  to  censure  or  lament.     But  when  the  innocent 


*  Pronounced  war'-yur, 
17 


194  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

suffer  for  the  guilty,  who  can  think  without  concern,  or  with- 
hold commiseration,  though  fell  necessity  may  sanction  the  de- 
vastations of  war." 

5.  "  Do  you  mean  to  insult  me,  Sir  ?"  sternly  demanded  the 
Hero.  "  This  canting  hypocritical  affectation  of  sentiment  I  will 
not  brook.  But  you  are  too  insignificant  for  my  resentment." 
*'  I  confess  my  insignificance,"  rejoined  the  8age,  "  my  actions 
have  never  been  blazoned  in  gazettes  ;  yet  I  have  neither  been 
idle  nor  uselessly  employed.  As  far  as  my  abilities  would  allow, 
I  have  endeavored  to  make  mankind  wiser  and  better.  If  I 
have  failed  to  increase  the  stock  of  human  happiness,  my  heart 
does  not  accuse  me  of  diminishing  its  suppHes.  Few  have  an 
opportunity  of  doing  much  good ;  but  the  most  insignificant 
and  contemptible  are  qualified  to  do  harm." 

6.  Here  the  Hero  and  the  Sage  parted  ;  neither  was  able  to 
convince  the  other  of  the  importance  of  his  services;  the  for- 
mer ordered  his  coach,  and  was  gazed  at  with  admiration  by 
the  unthinking  mob  ;  the  latter  retired  to  his  garret,  and  was 
forgotten. 


LESSON  C. 

The  Blind  Preacher. — Wirt. 

L  I  HAVE  been,  my  dear  S ,  on  an  excursion  through  the 

countries  which  lie  along  the  eastern  side  of  the  Bhie  Ridge  ;* 
a  general  description  of  that  country  and  its  inhabitants,  may 
form  the  subject  of  a  future  letter.  For  the  present,  I  must 
entertain  you  with  an  account  of  a  most  sino;ular  and  interesting 
adventure,  which  I  met  with  in  the  course  of  my  tour. 

2.  It  was  one  Sabbath,  as  I  travelled  througli  the  county  of 
Orange,  that  my  eye  was  caught  by  a  cluster  oihorses  tied  near 
an  old,  ruinous,  wooden  house,  in  the  forest,  and  not  far  from 
the  road  si(]e.  Having  frequently  seen  such  objects  before,  in 
travelling  through  these  states,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  understand- 
ing that  this  was  a  place  of  religious  worship.  Devotion,  alone^ 
should  have  stopped  me  to  join  in  the  duties  of  the  congregation, 
but  I  must  confess  that  curiosity  to  hear  the  preacher  of  such  a 
wilderness  was  not  tlie  least  of  my  motives. 

3.  On  entering  the  house,  I  was  struck  with  his  preternatural 
appearance.  He  was  a  tall  and  very  spare  old  man  ;  his  head, 
which  was  covered  with  a  white  linen  cap,  his  shrivelled  hands, 

♦  A  ridge  of  mountains  in  Virginia,  east  of  the  Alleghany  range. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  195 

and  his  voice,  were  all  shaking  under  the  influence  of  a  palsy ; 
and  a  few  moments  convinced  me  that  he  was  blind.  The  first 
emotions  which  touched  my  breast,  were  those  of  mingled  pity 
and  A'^eneration. 

4.  But  ah  !  how  soon  were  all  my  feelings,  changed !  It  was 
a  day  of  the  administration  of  the  sacrament,  and  his  subject, 
of  course,  was  the  passion  of  our  Saviour.  I  had  heard  the 
subject  handled  a  thousand  times.  I  had  supposed  it  exhausted 
long  ago.  Little  did  I  expect  that  in  the  Avild  woods  of  America 
[  was  to  meet  with  a  man  whose  eloquence  would  give  to  this 
topic  a  new  and  more  sublime  pathos,  than  I  had  ever  before 
witnessed. 

5.  As  he  descended  from  the  pulpit,  to  distribute  the  mystic 
symbols,  there  Avas  a  peculiar,  a  more  than  human  solemnity  in 
his  air  and  manner,  which  made  my  blood  to  run  cold,  and  my 
whole  frame  to  shiver.  He  then  drew  a  picture  of  the  sufferings 
of  our  Saviour; — his  trial  before  Pilate  ; — his  ascent  up  Calva- 
ry ; — his  crucifixion, — and  his  death.  I  kneiD  the  whole  his- 
tory ;  but  never,  until  then,  had  I  heard  the  circumstances  so 
selected,  so  arranged,  so  colored  !  It  was  all  new,  and  I  seemed 
to  have  heard  it  for  the  fii^st  time  in  my  life.  His  enunciation 
was  so  deliberate,  that  his  voice  trembled  on  every  syllable  ; 
nnd  every  heart  in  the  assembly  trembled  in  unison. 

6.  His  peculiar  phrases,  had  such  a  force  of  description,  that 
ihe  original  scene  appeared,  at  that  moment,  acting  before  our 
eyes.  We  saw  the  very  faces  of  the  Jews, — the  starting,  fright- 
ful distortions  of  malice  and  rage.  We  saw  the  buffet; — my 
soul  kindled  with  a  flame  of  indignation,  and  my  hands  were 
involuntarily  and  convulsively  clenched. 

7.  But  when  he  came  to  touch  the  patience,  the  forgiving 
meekness  o{ our  Saviour, — when  he  drew,  to  the  life,  his  blessed 
eyes  streaming  in  tears  to  heaven — his  voice  breathing  to  God, 

i'asoft  and  genlle  prayer  of  pardon  on  his  enemies  :  "  Father, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do," — the  voice  of 
the^prencher,  which  had  all  along  faultered,  grew  fainter  and 
fainter,  until  his  utterance  became  entirely  obscured  by  the 
force  of  his  feelings;  he  raised  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes,  and 
burst  into  a  loud  and  irrepressible  flood  of  tears.  The  effect 
was  inconceivable.  The  whole  house  resounded  with  the  min- 
gled groans,  and  sobs,  and  shrieks  of  the  congregation. 

8.  It  was  some  time  before  the  tumult  had  subsided,  so  as  to 
permit  him  to  proceed.  Indeed,  judging  by  the  usual,  but  fal- 
lacious standard  of  my  own  weakness,  I  began  to  be  very  uneasy 
for  the  situation  of  the  preacher.     For  I  could  Hot  conceive  how 


196  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

he  would  be  able  to  let  his  audience  down  from  the  height*  to 
which  he  had  wound  them,  without  impairing  the  dignity  and 
solemnity  of  his  subject,  or,  perhaps,  shock  them  by  the  abrupt- 
ness of  the  fall. 

9.  But — no :  the  descent  was  as  beautiful  and  sublime,  as 
the  elevation  had  been  rapid  and  enthusiastic.  The  first  sen- 
tence which  broke  the  awful  silence,  was  a  quotation  from 
Rousseau:!  ^^ Socrates  died  like  ?i philosopher , h-ai  Jesus  Christy 
like  a  God !  /"  Whatever  I  had  been  able  to  conceive  of  the 
sublimity  of  Massilon,|  or  the  force  of  Bourdaloue,||  had  fallen 
far  short  of  the  power  which  I  felt  from  the  delivery  of  this 
simple  sentence. 

10.  The  blood,  which,  just  before  had  rushed  in  a  hurricane 
upon  my  brain,  and,  in  the  violence  and  agony  of  my  feelings, 
had  held  my  whole  system  in  susj)ense;  now  ran  back  into  mv 
heart,  with  a  sensation  which  I  cannot  describe  ;  a  kind  of 
shuddering  delicious  horror!  The  paroxysm  of  mingled  pity 
and  indignation  to  which  I  had  been  transported,  subsided  into 
the  deepest  self-abasement,  humility,  and  sympathy  for  our 
Saviour,  as  a  fellow  creature: — but  now,  with  fear  and  trem- 
bhng,  I  adored  him  as  "  a  God !  /" 


LESSON  CI. 
Specimen  of    Welch  Preachina;. — London  Jewish  Exposi- 


tor. 


1.  At  a  meeting  of  ministers  at  Bristol,^  the  Reverend  Mr. 
invited  several  of  his  brethren  to  siij)  v>ithhini ;  among 


them  was  the  minister  officiating  at  the  Welch  meeting-house  in 
that  city.  Me  was  an  entire  stranger  to  all  the  company,  and 
silently  attentive  to  the  general  conversation  of  his  brethren. 

2.  The  subject  on  which  they  were  discoursing,  was  the  dif-^ 
ferent  strains  of  public  preaching.     When  several  had  given 
their  opinions,  and  had  mentioned  some  individuals  who  were 
good  preachers,  and^such  as  were  models  as  to  style  and  com- 
position, (fee,  Mr.  L turned  to  the  Welch  stranger  and 

solicited  his  opinion. 

*  Pronounced  hi  to. 

t  John  James  Rousseau,  a  celebrated  philosopher,  bom  in  Geneva,  in 
Switzerland,  A.  U    1711. 

t  A  famous  French  preacher,  born  in  A.  D.  1663. 

II  A  distinguished  French  preacher,  born  in  A.  D.  1632. 

§  A  city  in  the  western  part  of  England,  situated  on  the  river  Avon. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  197 

3.  He  said  he  fell  it  to  be  a  privileo  e  to  be  silent  when  such 
men  were  discoursing:  but  that  he  felt  it  a  duty  to  comply  with 
this  request ;  "  but,"  said  he,  "  if  I  must  give  my  opinion,  I 
should  say  you  had  no  good  preachers  in  England."  "No  !" 
said  Ml-.  L.  "  No,"  said  he,  "  that  is,  I  mean,  no  such  preach- 
ers as  we  have  in  the  principality." 

4.  "  I  know,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "  you  are  famous  for  jumping  in 
Wales,  but  that  is  owing,  I  suppose,  as  much  to  the  strain  of 
preaching  which  the  people  hear,  as  to  the  enthusiasm  of  their 
characters."  "Indeed,"  said  the  Welchman,  "you  would 
jump  too,  if  you  heard  and  understood  such  preaching." 

5.  "  Why,"  said  Mr.  L.,  "  do  you  not  think  I  could  make 
them  jump,  if  I  were  to  preach  to  them  ?"  "  You  make  them 
jump!"  exclaimed  the  Welchman,  "  you  make  them  jump  !  a 
Welchman  would  set  tire  to  the  world,  while  you  were  lighting 
your  match." 

6.  The  whole  company  became  very  much  interested  in  this 
new  turn  of  the  subject,  and  unanimously  requested  the  good 
man  to  give  them  some  specimen  of  the  style  and  manner  of 
preaching  in  the  principality. 

7.  "  Specimen,"  said  he,  "  I  cannot  give  you  ;  if  John  Elias 
was  here,  he  would  give  you  a  specimen  indeed.  Oh  !  John 
Elias  is  an  excellent  preacher."  Well,  said  the  company,  give 
us  something  that  you  have  heard  from  him. 

8.  "Oh,  no  !"  said  he,  "  I  cannot  do  ju^tir-e  to  it;  besides, 
do  you  understand  the  Welch  language  ?"  They  said  no,  not 
so  as  to  follovi'  a  discourse.  "Then."  said  he,  "it  is  impossible 
for  ye  to  understand,  if  I  were  to  give  you  a  specimen." 

9.  But,  said  they,  cannot  you  put  it  into  English  ?  "  Oh  !" 
said  he,  "your  poor  nicagrc  language  would  spoil  it;  it  is  not 
capable  of  expressing  those  ideas  which  a  Welchman  can  con- 
ceive ;  I  cannot  give  you  a  specimen  in  English  without  spoil- 
ing it." 

10.  The  interest  of  the  company  was  increased,  and  nothing 
would  do  but  sometliinof  of  a  specin(en,  while  they  promised  to 
make  every  alljwance  for  the  lanjxuao^e. 

11.  "  V/eli,"  said  the  Welchman,  "  if  you  must  have  apiece, 
I  must  try  ;  but  I  don't  know  what  to  give  you  ;  I  do  not  recol- 
lect a  piece  of  John  Elias ;  he  is  our  best  preacher.  I  must 
think  a  little ; — well,  I  recollect  a  piece  of  Christmas  Evans. 

12.  "  Christmas  Evans  was  a  good  preacher,  and  I  heard 
him  a  little  time  ago,  at  an  association  of  ministers.  He  was 
preaching  on  the  depravity  of  man  by  sin  ;  of  his  recovery  by 
the  death  of  Christ,  and  he  said — '  Brethren,  if  I  were  to  pre- 

17* 


198  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

sent  to  you,  in  a  figure,  the  condition  of  man  as  a  sinner,  and 
the  means  of  his  recovery  by  the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ,  I  should 
present  somewhat  in  this  way. 

13.  ' "  Suppose  a  large  grave-yard,  surrounded  by  a  high  wall, 
with  only  one  entrance,  which  is  by  a  large  iron  gate,  which  is 
fast  bolted;  within  these  wails  are  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  human  beings,  of  all  ages  and  of  all  classes,  by  one 
epidemic  disease  bending  to  the  grave ;  the  grave  yawns  to 
receive  them,  and  they  mustall  die  ;  there  is  no  balm  to  relieve 
them,  no  physician  there — they  must  perish. 

14.  "  '  This  is  the  condition  of  man  as  a  sinner — all,  all  have 
sinned,  and  the  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die.  While  man  was 
in  this  deplorable  state,  Mercy,  the  darling  attribute  of  Deity, 
came  down  and  stood  at  the  gate,  looking  at  the  scene,  and 
wept  over  it,  exclaiming,  oh,  that  I  might  enter,  I  would  bind 
up  their  wounds,  I  would  relieve  their  sorrows — I  would  save 
their  souls. 

15.  "  'While  Mercy  stood  weeping  at  the  gate,  an  embassy 
of  angels,  commissioned  from  the  court  of  Heaven  to  another 
worlc[,  passing  over,  paused  at  the  sight — and  Heaven  forgave 
that  pause — andseeingMcrcystandingthere,  they  cried,  Mercy, 
Mercy,  can  you  not  enter  ?  Can  you  look  upon  this  scene  and 
not  pity  ?  Can  you  pity  and  not  relieve  ?  Mercy  replied,  I  can 
see,  and  in  her  tears  added,  I  can  pity,  but  I  cannot  relieve. 

16.  "'  Why  can  you  not  enter?  Oli,  said  Mercy,  Justice  has 
barred  the  gate  against  me,  and  I  cannot,  must  not  unbar  it. 
At  this  moment.  Justice  hiniself  a]»i)cared,  as  if  it  were  to  watch 
the  gate.  The  angels  inquired  of  him,  why  will  you  not  lei 
Mercy  in  ?  Justice  replied,  my  law  is  broken,  and  it  must  be 
honored  :  die  they,  or  Justice  must. 

17.  "'At  this,  there  appeared  a  form  among  the  angelic  band, 
like  unto  the  Son  of  God,  who,  addressing  himself  to  Justice, 
said,  what  are  thy  demands  ?  Justice  replied,  my  terms  are 
stern  and  rigid ;  I  must  have  sickness  for  their  health,  I  must 
have  ignominy  for  their  honor,  I  must  have  death  for  life. — 
Without  shedding  of  blood  there  is  no  remission. 

18.  "  '  Justice,  said  the  Son  of  God,  I  accept  thy  terms  ;  on 
me  be  this  wrong,  and  let  Mercy  enter.  When,  said  Justice, 
will  you  perform  this  promise  ?  Jesus  replied,  four  thousand 
years  hence,  u})on  the  hill  of  Calvary,  without  the  gates  of 
Jerusalem,  I  will  perform  it  in  my  own  person. 

19.  "  '  The  deed  was  prepared  and  signed  in  the  presence  of 
the  Angels  of  God,  Justice  was  satisfied,  and  Mercy  entered, 
preaching  salvation  in  the  name  of  Jesus  ;  the  deed  wa?  couv 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  190 

mitted  to  the  Patriarchs,  by  them  to  the  Kings  of  Israel  and  the 
Prophets;  bv  them  it  was  preserved  till  Daniel's  seventy  weeks 
were  accomplished;  then,  at  the  appointed  time,  Justice  ap- 
peared on  the  hill  of  Calvary,  and  Mercy  presented  to  him  the 
important  deed. 

20.  "  '  Where,'  said  Justice, '  is  the  Son  of  God?'  Mercy  an- 
swered, behold  him  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  bearing  his  own 
cross ;  and  then  he  departed  and  stood  aloof,  at  the  hour  of  trial. 
Jesus  ascended  the  hill,  while  in  his  train  followed  his  weeping 
church. 

21.  "Justice  immediately  presented  him  the  deed,  saying, 
this  is  the  day  when  this  bond  is  to  be  executed.  When  he 
received  it,  did  he  tear  it  in  pieces  and  give  it  to  the  winds 
of  heaven?  No,  he  nailed  it  to  the  cross,  exclaiming,  It  is 
finished. 

22.  "  Justice  called  on  holy  fire  to  come  down  and  consume 
the  sacrifice.  Holy  fire  descended,  it  swallowed  his  humanity, 
but  M^hen  it  touched  his  Deity  it  expired — and  there  was  dark- 
ness over  the  whole  heavens :  but '  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest, 
on  earth  peace,  good  will  to  men.' " — This,  said  the  Welchman, 
is  but  a  specimen  of  Christmas  Evans. 


LESSON  CII. 

Happiness. — Lacon. 

1.  What  is  earthly  happiness  ?  that  phantom  of  which  we 
hear  so  much,  and  see  so  little  ?  whose  promises  are  constantly 
given  and  constantly  broken,  but  as  constantly  believed?  that 
cheats  us  w^ith  the  sound  instead  of  the  substance,  and  with  the 
blossom  instead  of  the  fruit  ? 

2.  Like  Juno,*  she  is  a  goddess  in  pursuit,  but  a  cloud  in 
possession ;  deified  by  those  who  cannot  enjoy  her,  and  despis- 
ed by  those  who  can.  Anticipation  is  her  herald,  but  Disap- 
pointment is  her  companion;  the  first  addresses  itself  to  our 
imagination,  that  would  believe,  but  the  latter  to  our  experience 
that  must. 

3.  Happiness,  that  grand  mistress  of  the  ceremonies  in  the 
dance  of  life,  impels  us  through  all  its  mazes  and  meanderings, 
but  leads  none  of  us  by  the  same  route.  Aristippusf  pursued 
her  in  pleasure,  Socratesf  in  wisdom,  and  Epicurusf  in  both  ; 
she  rc'ceived  the  attentions  of  eacli,  but  bestowed  her  endear- 

*  A  heathen  goddess.  t  A  Grecian  philosopher. 


200  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

ments  on  neither  ;  although,  like  some  other  gallants,  they  all 
boasted  of  more  favours  than  they  had  received. 

4.  Warned  by  their  failure,  the  stoic*  adopted  a  most  para- 
doxical mode  of  preferring  his  suit;  he  thought,  by  slandering, 
to  woo  her;  by  shunning,  to  win  her;  and  proudly  presumed, 
that  by  fleeing  her,  she  would  turn  and  follow  him. 

5.  She  is  deceitful  as  the  cahn  that  precedes  the  hurricane  ; 
smooth  as  the  water  on  the  verge  of  the  cataract;  and  beautiful 
as  the  rainbow,  that  smiling  daughter  of  the  storm ;  but,  like 
the  miraget  in  the  desert,  she  tantalizes  us  with  a  delusion  that 
distance  creates,  and  that  contiguity  destroys. 

6.  Yet,  when  unsought,  she  is  often  found,  and  when  unex- 
pected, often  obtained  ;  while  those  who  seek  for  her  the 
most  diligently,  fail  the  most,  because  they  seek  her  where  she 
is  not. 

7.  Antony:j:  sought  her  in  love ;  Brutus^  in  glory ;  Cesar| 
in  dominion:  the  first  found  disgrace, — the  second  disgust, — 
the  last  inofratitude, — and  each  destnirtion.  To  some  she  is 
more  kind,  but  not  less  cruel ;  she  hands  them  her  cup,  and 
they  drink  even  to  stupefaction,  until  they  doubt  whether  they 
are  men  with  Philip, Ij  or  dream  that  they  are  gods  with 
AIexandcr.il 

8.  On  some  she  smiles  as  on  Napoleon, 6  with  an  aspect 
more  bewitching  than  an  Italian  snn  ;  but  it  is  only  to  make 
lier  frown  the  more  terrible,  and  by  one  short  caress  to  embitter 
the  pangs  of  separation.  Yet  is  she,  by  universal  homage  and 
consent,  a  queen ;  and  the  passions  are  the  vassal  lords  that 
crowd  her  court,  await  her  mandate,  and  move  at  her  control. 

9.  But,  like  other  mighty  sovereigns,  she  is  so  surrounded 
by  her  envoys,  her  officer'?,  and  her  ministers  of  state,  that  it  is 
extremely  diflicult  to  be  admitted  to  her  presence-chamber,  or 
to  have  any  immediate  commimieation  with  herself.  Ambition, 
Avarice,  Love,  Revenge,  all  these  seek  her,  and  her  alone ; 
alas  !  they  are  neither  presented  to  her,  nor  will  she  come  to 
them. 

10.  She  despatches,  however,  her  envoys  unto  them — mean 
and  poor  representatives  of  their  queen.     To  Ambition,  she 

*  Stoics,  a  st't  of  heatlu'ii  philosopliers,  who  prided  themselves  in  an 
affected  indi. 'Terence  to  pleisure  or  pi.in. 

t  A  curious  phenomenon,  supposed  to  result  from  an  inverted  ima^e  of 
the  sky  iutorinixed  with  the  ground  scenery.  They  are  seen  principally  in 
the  African  deserts. 

t  A  Roman  Cleneral. 

U   A  kinjr  of  Maccdon. 

S  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  emperor  of  France  in  1804. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  201 

sends  power;  to  Avarice,  wealth;  to  Love,  jealousy;  to  Re- 
venge, remorse  ;  alas  !  what  are  these,  but  so  many  other 
names  for  vexation  or  disappointment. 

n.  Neither  is  she  to  be  won  by  flatteries  or  by  bribes;  she 
is  to  be  gained  by  waging  war  against  her  ene7}iies,m.uch.  sooner 
than  by  paying  any  particular  court  to  herself.  Those  that 
conquer  her  adversaries,  will  find  that  they  need  not  go  to  her, 
for  she  will  come  unto  them. 

12.  None  bid  so  high  for  her  as  kings;  few  are  more  willing, 
none  more  able,  to  purchase  her  alliance  at  the  fullest  price. 
But  she  has  no  more  respect  for  kings  than  for  their  subjects; 
she  mocks  them  indeed  with  the  empty  show  of  a  visit,  by 
sending  to  their  palaces  all  her  equipage,  her  pomp,  and  her 
train,  but  she  comes  not  herself.  What  detains  her?  She  is 
travelling  incognita*  to  keep  a  private  assignation  with  Content- 
ment, and  to  partake  of  a  tete-a-tete]  and  a  dinner  of  herbs  in 
a  cottage. 

13.  Hear  then,  mighty  queen !  what  sovereigns  seldom  hear, 
the  words  of  soberness  and  truth.  1  neitlier  despise  thee  too 
little,  nor  desire  thee  too  much  ;  for  thou  wieldest  an  earthly 
sceptre,  and  thy  gifts  cannot  exceed  thy  dominion.  Like  other 
potentates,  thou  also  art  a  creature  of  circumstance,  and  an 
ephemerip|  of  Time. 

14.  Like  other  potentates,  thou  also,  when  stripped  of  thy 
auxiliaries,  art  no  longer  competent  even  to  thine  own  subsist- 
ence; nay,  thou  canst  not  even  stand  by  thyself.  Unsupported 
by  Content  on  the  one  hand,  and  by  Ileaith  on  the  other,  thou 
fallest  an  unwieldy  ajid  bloated  pageant  to  the  ground. 


^  LESSON  cm. 

William   Tcll.l — Knowles. 
Gesleb,  the  tyrant — Sarnem,  his  officer — and  Wm.  Trt-l,  a  Swiss  peasant. 

Sar.  Down,  slave,  upon  thy  knees  before  the  governor. 
And  beg  for  mercy. 

Ges.  Does  he  hear  ? 

Sar.  He  does,  but  braves  thy  power.  [To  TclT\  Down,  slave, 
And  ask  for  life. 


*  In  diaguiso,  or  in  private. 

t  Tete-a-tute,  face  to  face,  or  a  private  conversation. 

%  Ephemeris,  a  daily  journal. 

y  William  I'ell,  an  illustrious  Swiss  patriot,  and  one  of  the  heroes  who 
restored  liberty  to  tlieir  oppressed  country,  in  1307.  tlcnnan  Gesler,  the 
Austrian  governor,  suspecting  that  a  conspiracy  was  formed  against  him,  and 


302  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Ges.  [To  Tell]  Why  speakest  thou  not? 

Tell.  For  wonder. 

Ges.  Wonder? 

Tell.  Yes,  that  thou  shouldst  seem  a  man. 

Ges.  What  should  I  seem  ? 

Tell.  A  monster. 

Ges.  Ha  !  Beware  ! — think  on  thy  chains. 

Tell.  Though  they  were  doubled,  and  did  weigh  me  down 
Prostrate  to  earth,  methinks  I  could  rise  up 
Erect,  with  nothing  but  the  honest  pride 
Of  telling  thee,  usurper,  to  thy  teeth, 
Thou  art  a  monster. — Think  on  my  chains  ! 
How  came  they  on  me  ? 

Ges.  Darest  thou  question  me  ? 

Tell.  Darest  thou  answer  ? 

Ges.  Beware  my  vengeance. 

Tell.  Can  it  more  than  kill  ? 

Ges.  And  is  not  that  enough : — 

Tell.  No,  not  enough  : — 
It  cannot  take  away  the  grace  of  life — 
The  comeliness  of  look  that  virtue  gives — 
Its  port  erect  with  consciousness  of  truth — 
Its  rich  attire  of  honorable  deeds — 
Its  fair  report  that's  rife  on  good  men's  tongues  :^ 
It  cannot  lay  its  hand  on  these,  no  more 
Than  it  can  pluck  his  brightness  from  the  sun, 
Or  with  polluted  finger  tarnish  it. 

Ges.  But  it  can  make  thee  writhe. 

Tell.  It  may,  and  I  may  say, 
Go  on,  though  it  should  make  me  groan  again.  # 

Ges.  Whence  comest  thou  ? 

Tell.  From  the  mountains. 

Ges.  Canst  tell  me  any  news  from  them  ? 

Tell.  Ay ; — they  watch  no  more  the  avalanche.* 

Ges.  Why  so  ? 


wishing  to  ascertain  the  spirit  of  the  people,  ordered  his  hat  to  be  raised  on 
a  pole,  and  homage  to  be  paid  to  it  as  to  himself.  Tell  refused  to  do  homage 
to  the  hat,  and  was  immediately  seized  and  carried  before  the  governor, 
Gesler  ordered  him  to  shoot  an  armw  at  an  apple  placed  on  the  head  of  his 
own  son,  or  else  be  dragged  with  his  child  to  immediate  death.  He  shot 
the  apple  off  his  son's  nead, — and  soon  after  shot  Gesler.  The  Swiss, 
roused  to  arms  by  the  conduct  of  Tell,  drove  away  their  Austrian  masters, 
and  established  the  independence  of  their  country,  A.  D.  1307. 

♦  Pronounced  av-a-lanch',  a  vast  body  of  snow  sliding  down  a  mountain. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  203 

Tell,  Because  they  look  for  thee.     The  hurricane 
Comes  unawares  upon  them  ;  from  its  bed 
The  torrent  breaks,  and  finds  them  in  its  track. 

Ges.  What  then  ? 

Tell.  They  thank  kind  Providence  it  is  not  thou. 
Thou  hast  perverted  nature  in  them.     The  earth 
Presents  her  fruits  to  them,  and  is  not  thanked. 
The  harvest  sun  is  constant,  and  they  scarce 
Return  his  smile.     Their  flocks  and  herds  increase, 
And  they  look  on  as  men  who  count  a  loss. 
There's  not  a  blessing  Heaven  vouchsafes  them,  but 
The  thought  of  thee  doth  wither  to  a  curse. 
As  something  they  must  lose,  and  had  far  better 
Lack. 

Ges.  'Tis  well.     I'd  have  them  as  their  hills 
That  never  smile,  though  wanton  summer  tempt 
Them  e'er  so  much. 

Tell.  But  they  do  sometimes  smile. 

Ges.  Ah  ! — when  is  that  ? 

Tell.  When  they  do  pray  for  vengeance. 

Ges.  Dar-e  they  pray  for  that  ? 

Tell.  They  dare,  and  they  expect  it,  too. 

Ges.  From  whence  ? 

Tell.  From  Heaven,  and  their  true  hearts. 

Ges.  [To  Sarnem.^  Lead  in  his  son.     Now  will  I  take 
Exquisite  vengeance.  [  To  Tell,  as  the  boy  enters.]  I  have  des- 
tined him 
To  die  along  with  thee. 

Tell.  To  die  !  for  what  ?  he's  but  a  child. 

Ges.  He's  thine,  however. 

Tell.  He  is  an  only  child. 

Ges.  So  much  the  easier  to  crush  the  race. 

Tell.  He  may  have  a  mother. 

Ges.  So  the  viper  hath — 
And  yet  who  spares  it  for  the  mother's  sake  ? 

Tell.  I  talk  to  stone.     I'll  talk  to  it  no  more. 
Ceme,  my  boy,  I  taught  thee  how  to  live, — 
I'll  teach  thee, — how  to  die. 

Ges.  But  first,  I'd  see  thee  make 
A  trial  of  thy  skill  with  that  same  bow. 
Thy  arrows  never  miss,  'tis  said. 

Tell.  What  is  the  trial  ? 

Ges.  Thou  look'st  upon  thy  boy  as  though  thou  guess«st  it. 

Tell.  Look  upon  my  boy  !  what  mea.i  you  ? 


204  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Look  upon  my  boy  as  though  I  guessed  it ! — 
Guessed  the  trial  thoud'st  have  me  make  ! — 
Guessed  it  instinctively  !  Thou  dost  not  mean — 
No,  no — Thou  wouldst  not  have  me  make 
A  trial  of  my  skill  upon  my  child  ! 
Impossible  !  I  do  not  guess  thy  meaning. 

Ges.  I'd  see  thee  hit  an  apple  on  his  head, 
Three  hundred  paces  off. 

Tell.  Great  Heaven  ! 

Ges.  On  this  condition  only  will  I  spare 
His  life  and  thine. 

Tell.  Ferocious  monster !  make  a  father 
Murder  his  own  child  ! 

Ges.  Dost  thou  consent  ? 

Tell.  With  his  own  hand  ! — 
The  hand  I've  led  him  when  an  infant  by  ! 
My  hands  are  free  from  blood,  and  have  no  gust 
For  it,  that  they  should  drink  my  child's. 
I'll  not  murder  my  boy,  for  Gesler. 

Boy.  You  will  not  hit  me,  father.     You'll  be  sure 
To  hit  the  apple.     Will  you  not  save  me,  father  ? 

Tell.  Lead  me  forth — I'll  make  the  trial. 

Boy.  Father 

Tell.  Speak  not  to  me  ; — 
Let  me  not  hear  thy  voice — Thou  must  be  dumb; 
And  so  should  all  things  be — Earth  should  be  dumb, 
And  Heaven,  unless  its  thunder  muttered  at 
The  deed,  and  sent  a  bolt  to  stop  it. — 
Give  me  my  bow  and  quiver. 

Ges.  When  all  is  ready.     Sarnem,  measure  hence 
The  distance — three  hundred  paces. 

Tell.  Will  he  do  it  fairly  ? 

Ges.  What  is't  to  thee,  fairly  or  not. 

Tell,  [sarcastically.]  O,  nothing,  a  little  thing, 
A  very  little  thing ;  1  only  shoot 
At  my  child ! 

[Sarnem  prepares  to  measured] 
Villain,  stop !  you  measure  against  the  sun. 

Ges.  And  what  of  that  ? 
What  matter  whether  to  or  from  the  sun? 

Tell.  I'd  have  it  at  my  back.     The  sun  should  shine 
Upon  the  mark,  and  not  on  him  that  shoots — 
I  will  not  shoot  against  the  sun. 

Ges.  Give  him  his  way.  [Sarnem  paces  and  goes  out.] 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  206 

Tell,  I  should  like  to  see  the  apple  I  must  hit. 
Ges.  [Picks  out  the  smallest  one]  There,  take  that. 
Tell.  You've  picked  the  smallest  one. 
Ges.  I  know  I  have.     Thy  skill  ^vill  be 
The  greater  if  thou  hittest  it. 

Tell,  [sarcastically.]  True — true  !  I  did  not  think  of  that, 
I  wonder  I  did  not  think  of  that.     A  larger  one 
Had  given  me  a  chance  to  save  my  boy. — ■ 
Give  me  my  bow.     Let  me  see  my  quiver. 

Ges.  Give  him  a  single  arrow.  [To  an  attendant.] 

[Tell  looks  at  it  and  breaks  it.] 
Tell.  Let  me  see  my  quiver.     It  is  not 
One  arrow  in  a  dozen  I  would  use 
To  shoot  with  at  a  dove,  much  less  a  dove 
Like  that. 

Ges.  Show  him  the  quiver. 

[Sarnem  returns  and  takes  the  apple  and  the  hoy  to 
place  them.     While  this  is  doing,  Tell  conceals  an 
arrow  under  his  garment.     He  then  selects  another 
arrow,  and  says,] 
Tell.  Is  the  boy  ready  ?  Keep  silence  now 
For  Heaven's  sake,  and  be  my  witnesses, 
That  if  his  life's  in  peril  from  my  hand, 
'Tis  only  for  the  chance  of  saving  it. 
For  mercy's  sake  keep  motionless  and  silent. 

[He  aims  and  shoots  in  the  direction  of  the  hoy.     In 
a  moment  Sarnem.  enters  with  the  apple  on  the  ar- 
row^ s  point. 
,  Sar.  The  boy  is  safe. 
Tell.  [Raising  his  arms.]  Thank  Heaven  ! 

[^.9  he  raises  his  arms  the  concealed  arroio  falls. 
Ges.  [Picking  it  up.]     Unequalled  archer  !  why  was  this 

concealed  ? 
Tell.  To  kill  thee,  tyrant,  had  I  slain  my  boy. 


LESSON  CIV. 

The  Philosopher's  Scales. — Jane  Taylor. 

1.  A  Monk*  when  his  rites  sacerdotal  were  o'er, 
In  the  depth  of  his  cell,  with  its  stone-covered  floor, 

*  Monk,  a  member  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church,  who  has  taken  a  vow 
of  poverty  and  celibacy. 

18 


306  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Resigning  to  thought  his  chimerical  brain, 
Once  formed  the  contrivance  we  now  shall  explain : 
But  whether  by  magic's  or  alchymy's  powers, 
We  know  not — indeed,  'tis  no  business  of  ours : 

2.  Perhaps  it  was  only  by  patience  and  care, 

At  last,  that  he  brought  his  invention  to  bear ; 

In  youth  'twas  projected,  but  years  stole  away, 

And  ere  'twas  complete,  he  was  wrinkled  and  gray  ; 

But  success  is  secure,  unless  energy  fails — 

And  at  length  he  produced  the  Philosopher's  Scales. 

3.  "  What  were  they  ?"  you  ask  ;  you  shall  presently  see  ; 
These  scales  were  not  made  to  weigh  sugar  and  tea ; 

O  no  ;  for  such  properties  wondrous  had  they. 

That  qualities,  feelings,  and  thoughts,  they  could  Aveigh : 

Together  with  articles  small,  or  immense. 

From  mountains  or  planets,  to  atoms  of  sense ; 

4.  Nought  was  there  so  bulky,  but  there  it  could  lay, 
And  nought  so  ethereal,  but  there  it  would  stay. 
And  nought  so  reluctant,  but  in  it  must  go — 

All  which  some  examples  more  clearly  will  show. 

5.  The  first  thing  he  weighed  was  the  head  of  Voltaire,* 
Which  retained  all  the  wit  that  had  ever  been  there  ; 
As  a  weight,  he  threw  in  a  torn  scrap  of  a  leaf. 
Containing  the  prayer  of  the  Penitent  Thief; 
When  the  skull  rose  aloft  with  so  sudden  a  spell, 
That  it  bounced  like  a  ball  on  the  roof  of  the  cell. 

6.  One  time  he  put  in  Alexander  the  Great,t 

With  a  garment,  that  Dorras|  had  made,  for  a  weight, 
And  though  clad  in  armor  from  sandals  to  crown, 
The  Hero  rose  up,  and  the  garment  went  down. 

•  Voltaire,  a  celebrated  French  historian,  philoBopher,  dramatic  writer, 
and  epic  poet,  was  born  at  Paris,  1694,  and  died  1778.  He  possessed  un- 
common powers  of  mind,  but  was  inconstant  and  unstable ;  and  it  is  to  be 
regretted  that  he  employed  his  talents  in  advancing  the  cause  of  infidelity. 

t  A  king  of  Macedon,  born  at  Pella,  B.  C.  355.  After  extending  his 
power  over  Greece,  he  invaded  Asid.  He  defeated  the  Persians  at  the  three 
celebrated  battles  of  the  Granicus,  of  Issus,  and  of  Arbela,  which  rendered 
him  the  master  of  the  country.  He  afterwards  returned  to  Babylon,  where 
he  died  of  intemperance,  B.  C.  323,  in  the  33d  year  of  his  age,  and  13th  of 
bis  reign. 

t  See  Acts,  chap  ix,  39. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  207 

7.  A  long'  row  of  alms-houses,  amply  endowed 
By  a  well  esteemed  Pharisee,  busy  and  proud, 
Next  loaded  one  scale  ;  while  the  other  was  prest 

By  those  mites  the  Poor  Widow*  dropt  into  the  chest ; 

Up  flew  the  endowment,  not  weighing  an  ounce. 

And  down,  down  the  farthing-worth  weilt  with  a  bounce. 

8.  Again,  he  performed  an  experiment  rare — 
A  monk,  with  austerities,  bleeding  and  bare. 
Climbed  into  his  scale — in  the  other  was  laid 
The  heart  of  our  Howard,  now  partly  decayed — 
When  he  found  with  surprise,  that  the  whole  of  his  brother 
Weighed  less  by  some  pounds  than  the  hit  of  the  other. 

9.  By  further  experiments,  (no  matter  how,) 

He  found  that  ten  chariots  weighed  less  than  one  plough ; 
A  sword,  with  gilt  trappings,  rose  up  in  the  scale, 
Though  balanced  by  only  a  ten-penny  nail — 
A  shield  and  a  helmet,  a  buckler  and  spear. 
Weighed  less  than  a  widow's  uncrystallized  tear — 

10.  A  Lord  and  a  Lady  went  up  at  full  sail. 

When  a  Bee  chanced  to  light  on  the  opposite  scale — 
Ten  Doctors,  ten  Lawyers,  two  Courtiers,  one  Earl, 
T'en  Counsellor's  Wigs,  full  of  poAvder  and  curl, 
All  heaped  in  one  balance,  and  swinging  from  thence. 
Weighed  less  than  a  few  grains  of  candor  and  sense  ; 

n.  A  first  water  Diamond,  with  brilliants  begirt. 

Than  one  good  potatoe,  just  waslied  from  the  dirt : 

Yet  not  mountains  of  silver  and  gold  could  suffice. 

One  pearl  to  outweigh — 'twas  the  Pearlf  of  great  price  ! 

12.  Last  of  all,  the  whole  world  was  bowled  in  at  the  grate. 
With  the  soul  of  a  beggar  to  serve  for  a  weight — 
When  the  former  sprang  up  with  so  strong  a  rebuff, 
That  it  made  a  vast  rent  and  escaped  at  the  roof — 
When  balanced  in  air,  it  ascended  on  high. 

And  sailed  up  aloft,  a  balloon  in  the  sky — 
While  the  scale  with  the  soul  in,  so  mightily  fell, 
That  it  jerked  the  Philosopher  out  of  his  cell. 

Moral. 

13.  Dear  Reader,  if  e'er  self-deception  prevails, 
We  pray  you  to  try  the  Philosopher's  Scales — 

*  See  St.  Mark,  chap.  xii.  42.         t  Religion — see  Matthew,  chap,  xiii.  46. 


208  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

But  if  they  are  lost  in  the  ruins  around, 

Perhaps  a  good  substitute,  thus  may  be  found : 

Let  Judgment  and  Conscience,  in  circles  be  cut, 

To  which  strings  of  Thought,  may  be  carefully  put — 

Let  these  be  made  even  with  caution  extreme, 

And  Impartiality  serve  for  a  beam. 

Then  bring  those  good  actions,  which  pride  overrates, 

And  tear  up  your  motives,  in  bits,  for  the  Weights. 


LESSON  CV. 

fin  the  Zoonomia  of  Dr.  Darwin,  among  various  instances  recorded  by 
that  philosophical  physician  of  what  he  calls  maniacal  hallucination,  or  men- 
tal delusion,  is  the  case  of  a  young  farmer  of  Warwickshire,  whose  story 
was  well  authenticated  in  the  public  papers  of  the  time.  A  poor  elderly 
woman  in  his  neighborhood  was  in  the  habit,  urged  by  the  pinching  necessi- 
ties of  an  inclement  winter,  of  taking  a  few  sticks  from  his  grounds  and  his 
hedge,  to  preserve  the  fading  fire  in  her  forlorn  cottage.  Suspecting  the 
delinquent,  the  hard-hearted  hind  watched  and  detected  her.  After  wrench- 
ing from  her  the  scanty  faggot,  blows  and  reproaches  succeeded.  Struck 
with  the  misery  of  her  situation,  and  the  cruelty  of  her  oppressor,  she  kneel- 
ed, and,  rearing  her  withered  hands  to  the  cold  moon,  prayed  that  "  he 
might  never  again  know  the  blessing  of  warmth."  The  consciousness  of 
wrong,  the  solemnity  of  the  hour,  the  pathetic  tone,  "  sharp  misery,"  and 
impassioned  gesture  of  the  miserable  matron,  at  once  extinguished  the  dim 
reason  of  the  rustic.  He  immediately  complained  of  a  preternatural  chil- 
ness,  was  continually  calling  for  more  fire  and  clothes,  and  conceived  himself 
to  be  in  a  freezing  state,  till  the  time  of  his  death,  which  happened  shortly 
after.  On  this  singular  story  is  founded  the  following  ballad,  which  is  in  the 
genuine  spirit  of  ancient  English  song,  and  shows,  by  proof  irrefragable,  that 
simplicity,  and  the  language  of  ordinary  life,  may  be  connected  with  the 
most  exquisite  poetry. — Farmer's  Museum,.'] 

Goody  Blake  and  Harry  Gill. — Wordsworth. 

1.  Oh  !  what's  the  matter  ?  what's  the  matter? 
What  is't  that  ails  young  Harry  Gill? 
That  evermore  his  teeth  they  chatter, 
Chatter,  chatter,  chatter  still. 

Of  waistcoats  Harry  has  no  lack. 
Good  duffle  gray,  and  flannel  fine ; 
He  has  a  blanket  on  his  back. 
And  coats  enough  to  smother  nine. 

2.  In  March,  December,  and  in  July, 
'Tis  all  the  same  with  Harry  Gill ; 
The  neighbors  tell,  and  tell  you  truly, 
His  teeth  they  chatter,  chatter  stiH. 
At  night,  at  morning,  and  at  noon, 
'Tis  all  the  same  with  Harry  Gill ; 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  209 

Beneath  the  sun,  beneath  the  moon, 
His  teeth  they  chatter,  chatter  still. 

3.  Young  Harry  was  a  lusty  drover, 
And  who  so  stout  of  limb  as  he  ? 

His  cheeks  M^ere  red  as  ruddy  clover," 
His  voice  was  like  the  voice  of  three. 
Auld  Goody  Blake  was  old  and  poor 
111  fed  she  was,  and  thinly  clad : 
And  any  man  who  passed  her  door, 
Might  see  how  poor  a  hut  she  had. 

4.  All  day  she  spun  in  her  poor  dwelling, 
And  then  her  three  hours'  work  at  night  I 
Alas  !  'twas  hardly  worth  the  telling, 

It  would  not  pay  for  candle-light. 
— This  woman  dwelt  in  Dorsetshire, 
Her  hut  was  on  a  cold  hill  side, 
And  in  that  country  coals  are  dear, 
For  they  come  far  by  wmd  and  tide. 

5.  By  the  same  fire  to  boil  their  pottage, 
Tm'O  poor  old  dames,  as  I  have  known, 
Will  often  live  in  one  small  cottage, — 
But  she,  poor  woman,  dwelt  alone. 
'Twas  well  enough  when  summer  came. 
The  long  warm  lightsome  summer  day. 
Then  at  her  door  the  canty  dame 
Would  sit,  as  any  linnet  gay. 

6.  But  when  the  ice  our  streams  did  fetter. 
Oh !  then  how  her  old  bones  would  shake : 
You  would  have  said,  if  you  had  met  her, 
'Twas  a  hard  time  for  Goody  Blake. 

Her  evenings  then  were  dull  and  dead ; 
Sad  case  it  was  as  you  may  think. 
For  very  cold  to  go  to  bed. 
And  then  for  cold  not  sleep  a  wink. 

7.  O  joy  for  her  !  whene'er  in  winter, 
Tlie  winds  at  night  had  made  a  rout, 
And  scattered  many  a  lusty  splinter, 
And  many  a  rotten  bough  about. 
Yet  never  had  she,  well  or  sick, 

As  every  man  who  knew  her  says, 
18* 


210  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

A  pile  before  hand,  wood  or  stick, 
Enough  to  warm  her  for  three  days. 

8.  Now  when  the  frost  was  past  enduring, 
And  made  her  poor  old  bones  to  ache, 
Could  any  thing  be  more  alluring, 
Than  an  old  hedge  to  Goody  Blake  ? 
And  now  and  then  it  must  be  said, 
When  her  old  bones  were  cold  and  chill, 
She  left  her  fire,  or  left  her  bed. 

To  seek  the  hedge  of  Harry  Gill. 

9.  Now  Harry  he  had  long  suspected 
This  trespass  of  old  Goody  Blake, 
And  vow'd  that  she  should  be  detected, 
And  he  on  her  would  vengeance  take. 
And  oft  from  his  warm  fire  he'd  go. 
And  to  the  fields  his  road  would  take. 
And  there,  at  night,  in  frost  and  snow, 
He  watch'd  to  seize  old  Goody  Blake. 

10.  And  once  behind  a  rick*  of  barley. 
Thus  looking  out  did  Harry  stand  ; 
The  moon  was  full  and  shining  clearly. 
And  crisp  with  frost  the  stubble  land. 
— He  hears  a  noise — he's  all  awake — 
Again  ! — on  tiptoe  down  the  hill 

He  softly  creeps — 'Tis  Goody  Blake ! 
She's  at  the  hedge  of  Harry  Gill. 

11.  Right  glad  was  he  when  he  beheld  her : 
Stick  after  stick  did  Goody  pull. 

He  stood  beliind  a  bush  of  elder. 
Till  she  had  fill'd  her  apron  full. 
When  with  her  load  she  turn'd  about, 
The  by-road  back  again  to  take. 
He  started  forward  with  a  shout. 
And  sprang  upon  poor  Goody  Blake. 

12.  And  fiercely  by  the  arm  he  took  her, 
And  by  the  arm  he  held  her  fast. 
And  fiercely  by  the  arm  he  shook  her. 
And  cry'd,  "  I've  caught  you  then  at  last !" 
Then  Goody,  who  had  nothing  said. 

Her  bundle  from  her  lap  let  fall ; 


*  Rick,  a  pile,  or  stack. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  211 

And  kneeling  on  the  sticks,  she  pray'd 
To  God  that  is  the  Judge  of  all. 

13.  She  pray'd,  her  withered  hand  iiprearing, 
While  Harry  held  her  by  the  arm — 

"  God  !  who  art  never  out  of  hearing, 
O  may  he  never  more  be  warm  !" 
The  cold,  cold  moon  above  her  head, 
Thus  on  her  knees  did  Goody  pray, 
Young  Harry  heard  what  she  had  said, 
And  icy  cold  he  turn'd  away. 

14.  He  went  complaining  all  the  morrow, 
That  he  was  cold  and  very  chill : 

His  face  was  gloom,  his  heart  was  sorrow, 
Alas  that  day  for  Harry  Gill ! 
That  day  he  wore  a  riding  coat, 
But  not  a  whit  the  warmer  he  : 
Another  was  on  Thursday  brought. 
And  ere  the  Sabbath  he  had  three. 

15.  'Twas  all  in  vain,  a  useless  matter, 
And  blankets  were  about  him  pinn'd  : 
Yet  still  his  jaws  and  teeth  they  clatter, 
Like  a  loose  casement  in  the  wind. 
And  Harry's  flesh  it  fell  away  ; 

And  all  who  see  him  say  'tis  plain. 
That  live  as  long  as  live  he  may, 
He  never  will  be  warm  again. 

16.  No  word  to  any  man  he  utters. 
Abed  or  up,  to  young  or  old ; 
But  ever  to  himself  he  mutters, 
"  Poor  Harry  Gill  is  very  cold." 
Abed  or  up,  by  night  or  day. 

His  teeth  they  chatter,  chatter  still ; 
Now  think,  ye  farmers  all,  I  pray, 
Of  Goody  Blake  and  Harry  Gill. 


LESSON  CVI. 

The  Three  Warjiing-s. — Mrs.  Thrale. 

1.  The  tree  of  deepest  root  is  found 
Least  willing  still  to  quit  the  ground. 
'Twas  therefore  said  by  ancient  sages. 


212  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

^         That  love  of  life  increased  with  years 
So  much,  that  in  our  latter  stages, 
When  pains  grow  sharp  and  sickness  rages, 
The  greatest  love  of  life  appears. 

f 

2.  This  great  affection  to  believe, 
Which  all  confess,  but  few  perceive, 
If  old  assertions  can't  prevail. 

Be  pleased  to  hear  a  modern  tale. 

3.  When  sports  went  round,  and  all  were  gay 

On  neighbor  Dobson's  wedding-day. 
Death  called  aside  the  jocund  groom 
W^ith  him  into  another  room  ; 
And  looking  grave,  "  You  must,"  says  he, 
"  Quit  your  sweet  bride,  and  come  with  me." 

4.  "  With  you  !  and  quit  my  Susan's  side ! 
With  you  !"  the  hapless  husband  cried  ; 

"  Young  as  I  am  ?  'tis  monstrous  hard  ! 
Besides,  in  truth,  I'm  not  prepared  : 
My  thoughts  on  other  matters  go, 
This  is  my  wedding-night,  you  know." 

What  more  he  urged  I  have  not  heard : 
His  reasons  could  not  well  be  stronger : 

So  Death  the  poor  delinquent  spared, 
And  left  to  live  a  little  longer. 

5.  Yet,  calling  up  a  serious  look — 

His  hour-glass  trembled  while  he  spoke, — 
"  Neighbor,"  he  said,  "  farewell !  no  more 
Shall  Death  disturb  your  mirthful  hour : 
And  farther  to  avoid  all  blame 
Of  cruelty  upon  my  name. 
To  give  you  time  for  preparation. 
And  fit  you  for  your  future  station. 
Three  several  warnings  you  shall  have, 
Before  you're  summoned  to  the  grave. 
Willing,  for  once  Dl  quit  my  prey. 

And  grant  a  kind  reprieve. 
In  hopes  you'll  have  no  more  to  say. 
But,  when  I  call  again  this  way, 

Well  pleased,  tlie  world  will  leave." 
To  these  conditions  both  consented, 
And  parted,  perfectly  contented. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  213 

6.  What  next  the  hero  of  our  tale  befell, 
How  long  he  lived,  how  wisely, — and  how  well 
It  pleased  him,  in  his  prosperous  course, 

To  smoke  his  pipe,  and  pat  his  horse, — 

The  willing  muse  shall  tell : — 
He  chaffered  then,  he  bought,  he  sold. 
Nor  once  perceived  his  growing  old, 

Nor  thought  of  death  as  near ; 
His  friends  not  false,  his  wife  no  shrew, 
Many  his  gains,  his  children  few. 

He  passed  his  hours  in  peace. 
But,  while  he  viewed  his  wealth  increase, — 
While  thus  along  life's  dusty  road 
The  beaten  track  content  he  trod, — 
Old  Time,  whose  haste  no  mortal  spares, 
Uncalled,  unheeded,  unawares. 

Brought  on  his  eightieth  year. 

7.  And  now,  one  night,  in  musing  mood, 
As  all  alone  he  sate. 

The  unwelcome  messenger  of  fate 
Once  more  before  him  stood. 
Half  killed  with  anger  and  surprise, 
"  So  soon  returned  !"  old  Dobson  cries. 
"  So  soon,  d'ye  call  it  ?"  Death  replies  : 
"  Surely,  my  friend,  you're  but  in  jest : 

Since  I  was  here  before 
'Tis  six-and-thirty  years  at  least, 

And  you  are  now  fourscore." 

8.  "  So  much  the  worse  !"  the  clown  rejoined  : 
"  To  spare  the  aged  would  be  kind  : 

Besides,  you  promised  me  three  warnings. 
Which  I  have  looked  for  nights  and  mornings.'* 

"  I  know,"  cries  Death,  "  that,  at  the  best, 
I  seldom  am  a  welcome  guest ; 
But  don't  be  captious,  friend,  at  least : 
I  little  thought  you'd  still  be  able 
To  stump  about  your  farm  and  stable : 
Your  years  have  run  to  a  great  length ; 
I  wish  you  joy,  though,  of  your  strength." 

9.  "  Hold  !"  says  the  farmer,  "  not  so  fast : 
I  have  been  lame  these  four  years  past." 

"  And  no  great  wonder,"  Death  replies : 
"  However,  you  still  keep  your  eyes ; 


214  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

And  sure,  to  see  one's  loves  and  friends, 
For  legs  and  arms  would  make  amends." 
"  Perhaps,"  says  Dobson,  "  so  it  might ; 
But  latterly  I've  lost  my  sight." 

"  This  is  a  shocking  story,  faith ; 
Yet  there's  some  comfort,  still,"  says  Death : 
"  Each  strives  your  sadness  to  amuse  : 
I  warrant  you  hear  all  the  news." 

10.  "  There's  none,"  cries  he  ;  "  and  if  there  were, 
I'm  grown  so  deaf  I  could  not  hear." 
"Nay,  then,"  the  spectre  stern  rejoined, 

"  These  are  unreasonable  yearnings  : 
If  you  are  lame,  and  deaf,  and  blind. 

You've  had  your  three  sufficient  warnings  : 
So  come  along  ;  no  more  we'll  part." 
He  said,  and  touched  him  with  his  dart : 
And  now  old  Dobson,  turning  pale, 
Yields  to  his  fate so  ends  my  tale. 


LESSON  CVII. 

The  Dervis  and  tJie  Two  Merchants. — Lacon. 

L  The  ignorant  have  often  given  credit  to  the  wise,  for 
powers  that  are  permitted  to  none,  merely  because  the  wise 
iiave  made  a  proper  use  of  those  powers  that  are  permitted  to 

all.  y 

2.  The  little  Arabian  tale  of  the  dervis,  shall  be  the  comment 
of  this  proposition.  A  dervis  was  journeying  alone  in  the  des- 
ert, when  two  merchants  suddenly  met  him  ;  "  You  have  lost 
a  camel,"  said  he  to  the  merchants ;  "  indeed  we  have,"  they 
replied  : 

3.  "  Was  he  not  blind  in  his  right  eye,  and  lame  in  his  l^ft 
leg  ?"  said  the  dervis ;  "  he  was,"  replied  the  merchants ; 
*'  had  he  not  lost  a  front  tooth  ?"  said  the  dervis,  "  he  had," 
rejoined  the  merchants  ;  "  and  was  he  not  loaded  with  honey 
on  one  side  and  wheat  on  the  other?" — "most  certainly  he 
was,"  they  replied,  "  and  as  you  have  seen  him  so  lately,  and 
marked  him  so  particularly,  you  can,  in  all  probability,  conduct 
us  unto  him." 

4.  "  My  friends,"  said  the  dervis,  "  I  have  never  seen  your 
camel,  nor  ever  heard  of  him  but  from  you."  "A  pretty  story, 
truly,"  said  the  merchants,  "  but  where  are  the  jewels  which 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  215 

formed  a  part  of  his  cargo  ?"  "  I  have  neither  seen  your  camel, 
nor  j^our  jewels,"  repeated  the  dervis. 

5.  On  this,  they  seized  his  person,  and  forthwith  hurried  him 
before  the  cadi,*  where,  on  the  strictest  search,  nothing  could  be 
found  upon  him,  nor  could  any  evidence  whatever  be  adduced 
to  convict  him,  either  of  falsehood  or  theft.     - 

6.  They  were  then  about  to  proceed  against  him  as  a  sorcer- 
er, when  the  dervis,  with  great  calmness,  thus  addressed  the 
court :  "  I  have  been  much  amused  with  your  surprise,  and  own 
that  there  has  been  some  ground  for  your  suspicions  ;  I  have 
lived  long,  and  alone  ;  I  can  find  amjde  scoj)e  for  observation, 
even  in  a  desert. 

7.  "  I  knew  that  I  had  crossed  the  track  of  a  camel  that  had 
strayed  from  its  owner,  because  I  saw  no  mark  of  any  human 
footstep  on  the  same  route ;  I  knew  that  the  animal  was  blind 
of  one  eye,  because  it  had  cropped  the  herbage  only  on  one  side 
of  its  path  :  and  I  perceived  that  it  was  lame  in  one  leg,  from 
the  faint  impression  that  particular  foot  had  produced  on  the 
sand  ;  I  concluded,  that  the  animal  had  lost  one  tooth,  because 
wherever  it  had  grazed,  a  small  tuft  of  herbage  was  left  uninjur- 
ed, in  the  centre  of  its  bite. 

8.  "  As  to  that  which  formed  the  burden  of  tlije  beast,  the  busy 
ants  inform.ed  me  that  it  was  corn  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
clustering  flies,  that  it  was  honey  on  the  other." 


LESSON  CVIIL 

On  the  Present  and  Future  State, — Addison. 

1.  A  LEWD  young  fellow  seeing  an  aged  hermit  go  by  him 
barefoot,  "  Father,"  says  he,  "  you  are  in  a  very  miserable  con- 
dition, if  there  is  not  another  world."  "  True,  son,"  said  the 
hermit ;  *'  but  what  is  thy  condition  if  there  is  ?" — Man  is  a 
creature  designed  for  two  different  states  of  being,  or  rather  for 
two  diflerent  lives.  His  first  life  is  short  and  transient ;  his 
second  permanent  and  lasting. 

2.  The  question  we  are  all  concerned  in,  is  this — In  which 
of  these  two  lives  is  it  our  chief  interest  to  make  ourselves  happy? 
Or,  in  other  words — Whether  we  should  endeavour  to  secure  to 
ourselves  the  pleasures  and  gratifications  of  a  life  which  is  un- 
certain and  precarious,  and  at  its  utmost  length,  of  a  very  incon- 
siderable duration;  or  to  secure  to  ourselves  the  pleasures  of  a 

♦  A  Turkish  magistrate. 


216  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

life  which  is  fixed  and  settled,  and  will  never  end  ?  Everj"  man, 
upon  the  first  hearing  of  this  question,  knows  very  well  which 
side  of  it  he  ought  to  close  with. 

3.  But  however  right  we  are  in  theory,  it  is  plain  that  in 
practice  we  adhere  to  the  wrong  side  of  the  question.  We 
make  provision  for  this  life  as  though  it  were  never  to  have  an 
end ;  and  for  the  other  life  as  though  it  were  never  to  have  a 
beginning. 

4.  Should  aspirit  of  superior  rank,  who  is  a  stranger  to  human 
nature,  accidentally  alight  upon  this  earth,  and  take  a  survey  of 
its  inhabitants — What  would  his  notions  of  us  be  ?  Would  he 
not  think  that  we  are  a  species  of  beings  made  for  quite  different 
ends  and  purposes  than  what  we  really  are  ?  Must  he  not  ima- 
gine that  we  were  placed  in  this  world  to  get  riches  and  honors? 
Would  he  not  think  that  it  was  our  duty  to  toil  after  wealth, 
and  station,  and  title  ? 

5.  Nay,  would  he  not  believe  we  were  forbidden  poverty,  by 
threats  of  eternal  punishment,  and  enjoined  to  pursue  our  pleas- 
ures, under  pain  of  damnation  ?  He  would  certainly  imagine 
that  we  were  influenced  by  a  scheme  of  duties  quite  opposite  to 
those  which  are  indeed  prescribed  to  us. 

6.  And,  truly,  according  to  such  an  imagination,  he  must 
conclude  that  we  are  a  species  of  the  most  obedient  creatures  in 
the  universe ; — that  we  are  constant  to  our  duty ;  and  that  we 
keep  a  steady  eye  on  the  end  for  wliich  we  were  sent  hither. 

7.  But  how  great  would  be  his  astonishment,  when  he  learnt 
that  we  were  beings  not  designed  to  exist  in  this  world  above 
three  score  and  ten  years:  and  that  the  greatest  ])art  of  this  busy 
species  fall  short  even  of  that  age  !  II ow  would  he  be  lost  in 
horror  and  admiration,  when  he  should  know  that  this  set  of 
creatures,  who  lay  out  all  their  endeavors  for  this  life,  which 
scarce  deserves  the  name  of  existence,  when,  I  say,  he  should 
know  that  this  set  of  creatures  are  to  exist  to  all  eternity  in  anoth- 
er life,  for  which  they  make  no  preparations  ? 

8.  Nothing  can  be  a  greater  disgrace  to  reason,  than  that  men 
who  are  persuaded  of  these  two  different  states  of  being,  should 
be  perpetually  employed  in  providing  for  a  life  of  three  score 
and  ten  years,  and  neglecting  to  make  provision  for  that,  which, 
after  many  myriads  of  years,  will  be  still  newand  still  beginning; 
especially  when  we  consider,  that  our  endeavors  for  making  our- 
selves great,  or  rich,  or  honorable,  or  whatever  else  we  place  our 
happiness  in,  may,  after  all,  prove  unsuccessful ;  whereas,  if  we 
constantly  and  sincerely  endeavor  to  make  ourselves  happy  in 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  217 

the  other  life,  we  are  sure  that  our  endeavors  will  succeed,  and 
that  we  shall  not  be  disappointed  of  our  hope. 

9.  The  following  question  is  started  by  one  of  our  schoolmen. 
Supposing  the  whole  body  of  the  earth  were  a  great  baM  or  mass 
of  the  finest  sand,  and  that  a  single  grain  or  particle  of  this  sand 
should  be  annilvlated  every  thousand  years  ?^-Supposing,  then, 
that  you  had  it  in  your  choice  to  be  happy  all  the  while  this 
prodigious  mass  of  sand  was  consuming,  by  this  slow  method, 
until  there  was  not  a  grain  left,  on  condition  that  you  were  to 
be  miserable  forever  after?  Or,  supposing  that  you  might  be 
happy  for  ever  after,  on  condition  you  would  be  miserable  until 
the  whole  mass  of  sand  were  thus  annihilated,  at  the  rate  of  one 
sand  in  a  thousand  years ; — which  of  these  two  cases  would  you 
make  your  choice  ? 

10.  It  must  be  confessed,  in  this  case,  so  many  thousands  of 
years  are  to  the  imagination  as  a  kind  of  eternity,  though,  in 
reality,  they  do  not  bear  so  great  a  proportion  to  that  duration 
which  is  to  follow  them,  as  an  unit  does  to  the  greatest  number 
which  you  can  put  together  in  figures,  or  as  one  of  those  sands 
to  the  supposed  heap.  Reason  therefore  tells  us,  without  any 
manner  of  hesitation,  which  would  be  the  better  part  in  this 
choice. 

11.  However,  as  I  have  before  intimated,  our  reason  might, 
in  such  a  case,  be  so  overset  by  imagination,  as  to  dispose  some 
persons  to  sink  under  the  consideration  of  the  great  length  of 
the  first  part  of  this  duration,  and  of  the  great  distance  of  tliat 
second  duration  which  is  to  succeed  it ; — the  mind,  I  say,  might 
give  itself  up  to  that  hapj)iiiess  which  is  at  hand,  considering, 
that  it  is  so  very  near,  and  that  it  would  last  so  very  long. 

12.  But  when  the  choice  we  have  actually  before  us  is  this — 
Whether  we  will  choose  to  be  happy  for  the  space  of  only  three 
score  and  ten,  nay,  perhaps  of  only  twenty  or  ten  years,  I  might 
say  for  only  a  day  or  an  hour,  and  miserable  to  all  eternity ;  or, 
on  the  contrary,  misei-able  for  this  short  term  of  years,  and 
happy  for  a  whole  eternity — what  words  are  sufficient  to  express 
that  folly  and  want  of  consideration  which,  in  such  case,  makes 
a  wrong  choice  ! 

13.  I  here  put  the  case  even  at  the  worst,  by  supposing  what 
seldom  happens, — that  a  course  of  virtue  makes  us  miserable  in 
this  life:  but  if  we  suppose,  as  it  generally  happens,  that  virtue 
would  make  us  more  happy,  even  in  this  life,  than  a  contrary 
course  of  vice,  how  can  we  sufficiently  admire  the  stupidity  or 
madness  of  those  persons  who  are  capable  of  making  so  absurd 
a  choice  ? 

19 


JStl8  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

14.  Every  wise  man,  therefore,  will  consider  this  life  only  m 
it  may  conduce  to  the  happiness  of  the  other,  and  cheerfully 
sacrifice  the  pleasures  of  a  few  years,  to  those  of  an  eternity. 


LESSON  CIX. 

My  Mother^s  Picture. — Cowper. 

1.  O  THAT  those  lips  had  language  !  life  has  passM 
With  me  but  roughly  since  I  heard  thee  last. 

My  mother,  when  I  learn'd  that  thou  wast  dead, 
Say,  wast  thou  conscious  of  the  tears  I  shed  ? 
Hover'd  thy  spirit  o'er  thy  sorrowing  son, 
Wretch  even  theriy  life's  journey  just  begun  ? 
Perhaps  thou  gav'st  me,  though  inifelt,  a  kiss ; 
Perhaps  a  tear,  if  souls  can  weep  in  bliss : 
Ah,  that  maternal  smile  !  it  answers — Yes. 

2.  I  heard  the  bell  toll'd  on  thy  burial  day ; 
I  saw  the  hearse  that  bore  thee  slow  away ; 
And,  turning  from  my  nurs'ry  window,  drew 
A  long,  long  sigh,  and  wept  a  last  adieu.  . 

But  was  it  such  ? — It  was — where  thou  art  gone, 
Adieus  and  farewells,  are  a  sound  unknown. 
And  if  this  meet  thee  on  that  peaceful  shore. 
The  parting  word  shall  pass  my  lips  no  more. 

3.  Thy  maidens,  griev'd  themselves  at  my  concern. 
Oft  gave  me  promise  of  thy  quick  return. 

What  ardently  I  wish'd,  I  long  believ'd. 
And,  disappointed  still,  was  still  deceiv'd. 
By  expectation,  every  day  beguil'd, 
Dupe  of  to-morrow,  even  when  a  child. 
Thus  many  a  sad  to-morrow  came  and  went. 
Till,  all  my  stock  of  infant  sorrow  spent, 
I  learn'd,  at  last,  submission  to  my  lot ; 
But,  though  I  less  deplore  thee,  ne'er  forgot 

4.  My  boast  is  not,  that  I  deduce  my  birth 
From  loins  enthron'd,  and  rulers  of  the  earth ; 
But  higher  far  my  proud  pretensions  rise, — 
The  son  of  parents  pass'd  into  the  skies. 
And  now,  farewell.     Time  unrevok'd  has  run 
His  wonted  course,  yet  what  I  wish'd  is  done. 

5.  By  contemplation's  help,  not  sought  in  vain, 
I  seem  t'  have  liv'd  my  childhood  o'er  again  ; 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  219 

To  have  renew'd  the  joys  that  once  were  mine. 
Without  the  sin  of  violating  thine  ; 
And  while  the  wings  of  fancy  still  are  free, 
And  I  can  view  this  mimic  show  of  thee, 
Time  has  but  half  succeeded  in  his  theft ; 
Thyself  remov'd,  thy  pow'r  to  soothe  me,  left. 


LESSON  ex. 

Ode  to  Disappointment. — Henry  Kirke  Whitb. 

L  Come,  Disappointment,  come, 
Not  in  thy  terrors  clad  ; 
Come  in  thy  meekest,  saddest  guise ; 
Thy  chastening  rod  but  terrifies 
The  restless  and  the  bad. 
But  I  recline 
Beneath  thy  shrine, 
And  round  my  brow  resign'd,  thy  peaceful  cypress  twine. 

2.  Though  Fancy  flies  away 

Before  thy  hollow  tread, 
Yet  meditation,  in  her  cell. 
Hears,  with  faint  eye,  the  lingering  knell, 
That  tells  her  hopes  are  dead ; 
And  though  the  tear 
By  chance  appear, 
Yet  she  can  smile  and  say,  my  all  was  not  laid  here, 

3.  Come,  Disappointment,  come. 

Though  from  hope's  summit  hurlM, 
Still,  rigid  nurse,  thou  art  forgiven, 
For  thou  severe  wert  sent  from  heaven 
To  wean  me  from  the  world : 
To  turn  my  eye 
From  vanity, 
And  point  to  scenes  of  bliss  that  never,  never  die. 

4.  What  is  this  passing  scene  ? 

A  peevish  April  day ! 
A  little  sun,  a  little  rain. 
And  then  night  sweeps  along  the  plain, 
And  all  things  fade  away. 
Man  (soon  discuss'd) 
Yields  up  his  trust. 
And  all  his  hopes  and  fears  lie  with  him  in  the  dust 


220  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

5.  Oh  !  what  is  Beauty's  power  ? 

It  flourishes  and  dies  ; 
Will  the  cold  earth  its  silence  break, 
To  tell  how  soft,  how  smooth  a  cheek 
Beneath  its  surface  lies  ? 
Mute,  mute  is  all 
O'er  Beauty's  fall ; 
Her  praise  resounds  no  more  when  mantled  in  her  pall. 

6.  The  most  beloved  on  earth 

Not  long  survives  to-day  ; 
So  music  past  is  obsolete, 
And  yet  'twas  sweet,  'twas  passing  sweet, 
But  now  'tis  gone  away. 
Thus  does  the  shade 
In  memory  fade, 
When  in  forsaken  tomb,  the  form  beloved  is  laid. 

7.  Then  since  this  world  is  vain, 

And  volatile  and  fleet, 
Why  should  I  lay  up  earthly  joys 
Where  rust  corrupts  and  moth  destroys, 
And  cares  and  sorrows  eat  ? 
Why  fly  from  ill 
With  anxious  skill, 
When  soon  this  hand  will  freeze,  this  throbbing  heart  be  still. 

8.  Come,  Disappointment,  come  !  ^ 

Thou  art  not  stern  to  me : 
Sad  monitress  !  I  own  thy  sway ; 
A  votary  sad  in  early  day, 
I  bend  my  knee  to  thee. 
From  sun  to  sun 
My  race  will  run, 
I  only  bow  and  say — my  God,  thy  will  be  done. 


LESSON  CXI. 

Wkat  is  Time  ? — Marsden. 

1. 1  ASKED  an  aged  man,  a  man  of  cares, 
Wrinkled,  and  curved,  and  white  with  hoary  hairs ; 
*'  Time  is  the  warp  of  Ufe,"  he  said,  "  Oh,  tell 
The  young,  the  fair,  the  gay,  to  weave  it  well  /" 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  221 

2. 1  asked  the  ancient,  venerable  dead, 

Sages  who  wrote,  and  warriors  who  bled  ; 
From  the  cold  grave  a  hollow  murmur  flowed, 
"  Time  sowed  the  seed  we  reap  in  this  abode  I" 

3. 1  asked  a  dying  sinner,  ere  the  tide 

Of  life  had  left  his  veins  :  "  Time  !"  he  replied ; 
"  I've  lost  it !  Ah,  the  treasure  !"  and  he  died. 

4. 1  asked  the  golden  sun,  and  silver  spheres, 
Those  bright  chronometers  of  days  and  years : 
They  answered,  "  Time  is  but  a  meteor  glare  I" 
And  bade  us  for  eternity  prepare. 

5. 1  asked  the  Seasons,  in  their  annual  round, 
Which  beautify,  or  desolate  the  ground ; 
And  they  replied,  (no  oracle  more  wise,) 
"  'Tis  Folly's  blank,  and  Wisdom's  highest  prize !" 

6.  I  asked  a  spirit  lost ;  but  oh,  the  shriek 

That  pierced  my  soul !  I  shudder  while  I  speak  I 
It  cried,  "  A  particle  !  a  speck  !  a  mite 
Of  endless  years,  duration  infinite  !" — 

7.  Of  things  inanimate,  my  dial  I 
Consulted,  and  it  made  me  this  reply :  — 
"  Time  is  the  season  fair  of  living  well, 
The  path  of  glory,  or  the  path  of  hell." 

6. 1  asked  my  Bible  ;  and  methinks  it  said, 
*'  Time  is  the  present-hour^ — the  past  is  fled ; 
Live  !  live  to-day  !  to-morrow  never  yet 
On  any  human  being  rose  or  set." 

9.  I  asked  old  Father  Time  himself,  at  last. 
But  in  a  moment  he  flew  swiftly  past ; 
His  chariot  was  a  cloud,  the  viewless  wind 
His  noiseless  steeds,  which  left  no  trace  behind. 

10.  I  asked  the  mighty  Angel*  who  shall  stand 
One  foot  on  sea,  and  one  on  solid  land ; 
"  I  now  declare,  the  mystery  is  o'er — 
Time  was,''^  he  cried,  "  but  Time  shall  be  no  more  P* 
♦  See  Revelation,  chap.  x. 
19* 


222  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  CXII. 

Casabianca. — Mrs.  Hemans. 

Young  Casabianca,  a  boy  about  thirteen  years  old,  son  to  the  admiral  of 
the  Orient,  remained  at  his  post,  (in  the  battle  of  the  Nile,)  after  the  ship 
had  taken  fire,  and  all  the  guns  had  been  abandoned ;  and  perished  in  the 
explosion  of  the  vessel,  when  the  flames  had  reached  the  powder. 

L  The  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck, 
Whence  all  but  him  had  fled ; 
The  jlame  that  lit  the  battle's  wreck. 
Shone  round  him  o'er  the  dead. 

2.  Yet  beautiful  and  bright  he  stood, 

As  born  to  rule  the  storm  ; 
A  creature  of  heroic  blood, 

A  proud,  though  child-like  form. 

3.  The  flashes  roll'd  on — he  would  not  go, 

Without  his  father's  word  ;  ■ 
That  father,  faint  in  death  below, 
His  voice  no  longer  heard. 

4.  He  call'd  aloud — "  Say,  father,  say 

if  yet  my  task  is  done  ?" 
He  knew  not  that  the  chieftain  lay 
Unconscious  of  his  son. 

5.  "  Speak,  father  !"  once  again  he  cried, 

"If  I  may  yet  be  gone  ?" 
— And  but  the  booming  shots  replied, 
And  fast  the  flames  roll'd  on. 

6.  Upon  his  brow  he  felt  their  breath, 

And  in  his  waving  hair. 
And  look'd  from  that  lone  post  of  death. 
In  still,  yet  brave  despair. 

7.  And  shouted  but  once  more  aloud, 

"  My  father  !  must  I  stay  ?" 
While  o'er  him  fast,  through  sail  and  shroud. 
The  wreathing  fires  made  way. 

8.  They  wrapt  the  ship  in  splendor  wild, 

They  caught  the  flag  on  high, 
And  streamed  above  the  gallant  child, 
Like  banners  in  the  sky. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  223 

9.  There  came  a  burst  of  thunder  sound — 

The  boy — Oh!  where  was  he? 
— Ask  of  the  winds  that  far  around 
With  fragments  strewed  the  sea  ! 

10.  With  mast  and  hehn,  and  pennon*  fair, 

That  M^ell  had  borne  their  part — 
But  the  noblest  thing  that  perished  there, 
Was  that  young  faithful  heart. 


LESSON  CXIII. 
The  Just  Judge. — Anonymous. 

1.  A  GENTLEMAN,  who  posscssed  an  estate,  worth  about  five 
hundred  a  year,  in  the  eastern  part  of  England,  had  also  two 
sons.  The  eldest,  being  of  a  rambling  disposition,  went  abroad. 
After  several  years,  his  father  died;  when  the „ younger  son, 
d^troying  his  will,  seized  upon  the  estate.  He  gave  out  that 
his  elder  brother  was  dead,  and  bribed  false  Avitnesses  to  attest 
the  truth  of  it. 

2.  In  the  course  of  time,  the  elder  brother  returned ;  but 
came  home  in  miserable  circumstances.  His  younger  brother 
repulsed  him  with  scorn,  and  told  him  that  he  was  an  impostor 
and  a  cheat.  He  asserted  that  his  real  brother  M^as  dead  long- 
ago  ;  and  he  could  bring  witnesses  to  prove  it.  The  poor  fel- 
low, having  neither  money  nor  friends,  was  in  a  most  dismal 
situation.  He  went  round  the  parish  making  complaints,  and, 
at  last  to  a  lawyer,  who,  when  he  had  heard  the  poor  man's 
story,  replied,  "  You  have  nothing  to  give  me.  If  I  undertake 
your  cause  and  lose  it,  it  will  bring  me  into  disgrace,  as  all  the 
wealtli  and  evidence  are  on  your  brother's  side. 

3.  "  But,  however,  I  will  undertake  your  cause  on  this  con- 
dition :  you  shall  enter  into  an  obligation  to  pay  me  one  thou- 
sand guineas,  if  I  gain  the  estate  for  you.  If  I  lose  it,  I  know 
the  consequences  ;  and  I  venture  with  my  eyes  open."  Accord- 
ingly, he  entered  an  action  against  the  younger  brother,  which 
was  to  be  tried  at  the  next  general  assizesf  at  Chelmsford,  in 
Essex. 

4.  The  lawyer,  having  engaged  in  the  cause  of  the  young 
man,  and  stimulated  by  the  prospect  of  a  thousand  guineas,  set 
his  wits  to  work  to  contrive  the  best  methods  to  gain  his  end. 
At  last  he  hit  upon  this  happy  thought,  that  he  would  consult 

♦  Pennon,  a  small  flag,  or  banner.        t  As-si'-zes,  a  court  in  England. 


2^  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

the  first  judge  of  his  age,  Lord  Chief  Justice  Hale.f  Accord- 
ingly, he  hastened  up  to  London,  and  laid  open  the  cause,  and 
all  its  circumstances.  The  judge,  Avho  was  a  great  lover  of 
justice,  heard  the  case  attentively,  and  promised  him  all  the 
assistance  in  his  power. 

5.  The  lawyer  having  taken  leave,  the  judge  contrived  mat- 
ters so  as  to  finish  all  his  business  at  the  King's  Bench,  before 
the  assizes  began  at  Chelmsford.  When  within  a  short  distance 
of  the  place,  he  dismissed  his  man  and  horses,  and  sought  out 
for  a  single  house.  He  found  one  occupied  by  a  miller.  After 
some  conversation,  and  making  himself  quite  agreeable,  he  pro- 
posed to  the  miller  to  change  clothes  with  him.  As  the  judge 
nad  a  very  good  suit  on,  the  man  had  no  reason  to  object. 

6.  Accordingly,  the  judge  shifted  himself  from  top  to  toe, 
and  put  on  a  complete  suit  of  the  miller's  best.  Armed  with  a 
miller's  hat,  and  shoes,  and  stick,  away  he  marches  to  Chelms- 
ford, and  procured  good  lodging,  suitable  for  the  assizes  that 
should  come  on  next  day.  When  the  trials  came  on,  he  walked, 
like  an  ignorant  country  fellow,  backwards  and  forwards  along 
the  county  hall.  He  had  a  thousand  eyes  within  him,  and  when 
the  court  began  to  fill,  he  found  out  the  poor  fellow  who  was 
tlie  plaintiff. 

7.  As  soon  as  he  came  into  the  hall,  the  miller  drew  up  to 
him.  "  Honest  friend,"  said  he,  "  how  is  your  cause  like  to  go 
to-day  ?"  "  Why,"  replied  the  plaintiff,  "  my  cause  is  in  a  very 
precarious  situation,  and,  if  I  lose  it,  I  am  ruined  for  life." 
"  Well,  honest  friend,"  replied  the  miller,  "  if  you  will  take  my 
advice,  I  will  let  you  into  a  secret,  which  perhaps  you  do  not 
know  ;  every  Englishman  has  the  right  and  privilege  to  except 
against  any  one  juryman  through  the  whole  twelve  ;  now  do 
you  insist  upon  your  privilege,  without  giving  a  reason  why, 
and,  if  possible,  get  me  chosen  in  his  room,  and  I  will  do  you 
all  the  service  in  my  power." 

8.  Accordingly,  when  the  clerk  had  called  over  the  names  of 
the  jurymen,  the  plaintiff  excepted  to  one  of  them.  The  judge 
on  the  bench  was  highly  offended  with  this  liberty.  "  What  do 
you  mean,"  said  he,  "by  excepting  against  that  gentleman?" 
"I  mean,  mv  Lord,  to  assert  my  privilege  as  an  Englishman, 
without  giving  a  reason  why." 

9.  The  judi>c,  who  had  been  hiirhly  bribed,  in  order  to  con- 
ceal it  by  a  show  of  candor,  and  having  a  confidence  in  the 

*  Sir  Matthew  Hale,  a  very  distinguished  lawyer,  born  in  A.  D.  1G09,  sjod 
died  iu  1676. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  225 

superiority  of  his  party,  said,  "  Well,  sir,  as  you  claim  your 
privilege  in  one  instance,  I  will  grant  it.  Whom  would  you 
w^ish  to  have  in  the  room  of  that  man  excepted  ?"  After  a  short 
time,  taken  in  consideration,  "  My  lord,"  says  he,  "  I  wish  to 
have  an  honest  man  chosen  in  ;"  and  looking  round  the  court — 
"  jNty  lord,  there  is  that  miller  in  the  court,  we  will  have  him,  if 
you  please."     Accordingly,  the  miller  was  chosen  in. 

10.  As  soon  as  the  clerk  of  the  court  had  given  them  all  their 
oaths,  a  little  dexterous  fellow  came  into  the  apartment,  and 
sHpped  ten  guineas  into  the  hands  of  eleven  jurymen,  and  gave 
the  miller  but  five.  He  observed,  that  they  were  all  bribed  as 
well  as  himself,  and  said  to  his  next  neighbor,  in  a  soft  whisper, 
"  how  much  have  you  got  ?"  "  Ten  pieces,"  said  he.  But  he 
concealed  what  he  had  got  himself.  The  cause  Avas  opened  by 
the  plaintiff's  counsel,  and  all  the  scraps  of  evidence  they  could 
pick  up  were  adduced  in  his  favor. 

11.  The  younger  brother  was  provided  with  a  great  number 
of  witnesses,  and  pleaders,  all  plentifully  bribed  as  well  as  the 
judge.  The  evidence  deposed,  that  they  were  in  the  selfsame 
country  when  the  brother  died,  and  saw  him  buried.  The 
counsellors  pleaded  upon  this  accumulated  evidence  :  and  every 
thing  went  with  a  full  tide  in  favor  of  the  younger  brother. 
The  judge  summed  up  the  evidence  with  great  gravity  and 
deliberation  ; — "  And  now,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  said  he, 
"  lay  your  heads  together,  and  bring  in  your  verdict  as  you  shall 
deem  most  just." 

12.  They  waited  but  a  few  minutes,  before  they  determined 
in  favor  of  the  younger  brother.  The  judge  said,  "  Gentlemen, 
are  you  agreed,  and  who  shall  speak  for  you  ?" — "  We  are  all 
agreed,  my  lord,"  replied  one  ;  "  our  foreman  shall  speak  for 
us."  "  Hold,  my  lord,"  replied  the  miller,  "  we  are  not  all 
agreed."  "Why?"  said  the  judge,  in  a  very  surly  manner, 
"  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?  what  reasons  have  you  for 
disagreeing  ?" 

13  "  I  have  several  reasons,  my  lord,"  replied  the  miller : 
"  the  first  is,  they  have  given  to  all  tliese  gentlemen  of  the  jury 
ten  broad  pieces  of  gold,  and  to  me  but  five  ;  which,  you  know, 
is  not  fair.  Besides,  I  have  many  objections  to  make  to  the 
false  reasonings  of  the  pleaders,  and  the  contradictor}^  evidence 
of  the  witnesses."  Upon  this,  the  miller  began  a  discourse, 
which  discovered  such  vast  penetration  of  judgment,  such  ox- 
tensive  knowledge  of  law,  and  was  expressed  with  such  ener- 
getic and  manly  eloquence,  that  astonished  the  judge  and  th© 
whole  court. 


226  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

14.  As  he  was  going  on  \vith  his  powerful  demonstrations, 
the  judge,  in  a  surprise  of  soul,  stopped  him.  "  Where  did  you 
come  from,  and  who  are  you?"  "  I  came  from  Westminster 
Hall,"  replied  the  miller  ;  "  my  name  is  Matthew  Hale.  I  am 
lord  chief  justice  of  the  King's  Bench.  I  have  observed  the 
iniquity  of  your  proceedings  this  day  ;  therefore,  come  down 
from  a  seat  which  you  are  no  ways  worthy  to  hold.  You  are 
one  of  the  corrupt  parties  in  this  iniquitous  business.  I  will 
come  up  this  moment  and  try  the  cause  all  over  again." 

15.  Accordingly,  Sir  Matthew  went  up,  with  his  miller*s 
dress  and  hat  on,  began  the  trial  from  its  very  commencement, 
and  searched  every  circumstance  of  truth  and  falsehood.  He 
evinced  the  elder  brother's  title  to  the  estate,  from  the  contra- 
dictory evidence  of  the  witnesses,  and  the  false  reasoning  of  the 
pleaders ;  unravelled  all  the  sophistry  to  the  very  bottom,  and 
gained  a  complete  victory  in  favor  of  truth  and  justice. 


LESSON  CXIV. 

On  Happiness. — Sterne. 

1.  The  great  pursuit  of  man  is  after  happiness ;  it  is  the 
first  and  strongest  desire  of  his  nature  ; — in  every  stage  of  his 
life  he  searches  for  it  as  for  hid  treasure  ;  courts  it  under  a  thou- 
sand different  shapes  ;  and,  though  perpetually  disappointed — 
still  persists — runs  after  and  inquires  for  it  afresh — asks  every 
passenger  who  comes  in  his  way,  "  Who  will  show  him  any 
good ;" — who  will  assist  him  in  the  attainment  of  it,  or  direct 
nim  to  the  discovery  of  this  great  end  of  all  his  wishes  ? 

2.  He  is  told  by  one  to  search  for  it  among  the  more  gay  and 
youthful  pleasures  of  life  ;  in  scenes  of  mirth  and  sprightliness, 
where  happiness  ever  presides,  and  is  ever  to  be  known  by  the 
joy  and  laughter  which  he  will  see  at  once  painted  in  her  looks. 

3.  A  second,  with  a  graver  aspect,  points  out  to  him  the 
costly  dwelling  which  pride  and  extravagance  have  erected, 
tells  the  inquirer  that  the  object  he  is  in  search  of  inhabits  there, 
that  happiness  lives  only  in  company  with  the  great,  in  the 
midst  of  much  pomp  and  outward  state.  That  he  will  easily 
find  her  out  by  the  coat  of  many  colors  she  has  on,  and  the  great 
luxury  and  expense  of  equipage  and  furniture  with  which  she 
always  sits  surrounded. 

4.  The  miser  wonders  how  anyone  would  mislead  and  wilful- 
ly put  him  upon  so  wrong  a  scent — convinces  him  that  happiness 
and  extravagance  never  inhabited  under  the  same  roof; — that. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  227 

if  he  would  not  be  disappointed  in  his  search,  he  must  look  into 
the  plain  and  thrifty  dwelling  of  the  prudent  man,  who  knows 
and  understands  the  worth  of  money,  and  cautiously  lays  it  up 
against  an  evil  hour.  That  it  is  not  the  prostitution  of  wealtn 
upon  the  passions,  or  the  parting  with  it  at  all,  that  constitutes 
happiness — but  that  it  is  the  keeping  it  together,  and  the  having 
and  holding  it  fast  to  him  and  his  heirs  for  ever,  which  are  the 
chief  attributes  that  form  this  great  idol  of  human  worship,  to 
which  so  much  incense  is  offered  up  every  day. 

5.  The  epicure,*  though  he  easily  rectifies  so  gross  a  mistake, 
yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  plunges  him,'  if  possible,  into  a  greater; 
for,  hearing  the  object  of  his  pursuit  to  be  happiness,  and  know- 
ing of  no  other  happiness  than  what  is  seated  immediately  in 
his  senses — he  sends  the  inquirer  there;  tells  him  it  is  in  vain 
to  search  elsewhere  for  it,  than  where  nature  herself  has  placed 
it — in  the  indulgence  and  gratification  .  f  the  appetites,  which 
are  given  us  for  that  end  :  and  in  a  word — if  he  will  not  take 
his  opinion  in  the  matter — he  may  trust  the  word  of  a  much 
wiser  man,  who  has  assured  us — that  there  is  nothing  better  in 
this  world,  than  that  a  man  should  eat  and  drink,  and  rejoice 
in  his  works,  and  make  his  soul  enjoy  good  in  his  labor — for 
that  is  his  portion. 

6.  To  rescue  him  from  this  brutal  experiment — ambition 
takes  him  by  the  hand  and  carries  him  into  the  world — :^]iow3 
him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  and  the  glory  of  tliem — 
points  out  the  many  ways  of  advancing  his  fortune,  and  raising 
himself  to  honor — lays  before  his  eyes  all  the  charms  and  be- 
witching temptations  of  power,  and  asks  if  there  be  any  happi- 
ness in  this  world  like  that  of  being  caressed,  courted,  flattered, 
and  followed. 

7.  To  close  all,  the  philosopher  meets  him  bustling  in  the  full 
career  of  his  pursuits — stops  him — tells  him,  if  he  is  in  search 
of  happiness,  he  is  gone  far  out  of  his  way  : — That  this  deity 
has  long  been  banished  from  noise  and  tumults,  where  there 
was  no  rest  found  for  her,  and  has  fled  into  solitude,  far  from 
all  commerce  of  the  world ;  and,  in  a  word,  if  he  would  find 
her,  he  must  leave  this  busy  and  intriguing  scene,  and  go  back 
to  that  peaceful  scene  of  retirement  and  books,  from  which  he 
first  set  out. 

8.  In  this  circle,  too  often  does  a  man  run,  tries  all  experi- 
ments, and  generally  sits  down  wearied  and  dissatisfied  with 
them  all  at  last — in  utter  despair  of  ever  accomplishing  v/hat 

*  Epicure,  one  excessively  fond  of  eating  and  drinking. 


238  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

he  wants — not  knowing  what  to  trust  to  after  so  many  disap- 
pointments— or  where  to  lay  the  fault ;  whether  in  the  incapa- 
city of  his  own  nature,  or  the  insufficiency  of  the  enjoyments 
themselves. 

9.  There  is  hardly  any  subject  more  exhausted,  or  which,  at 
one  time  or  other,  has  afforded  more  miatter  for  argument  and 
declamation,  than  this  one,  of  the  insufficiency  of  our  enjoyments 
Scarce  a  reformed  sensualist,  from  Solomon  down  to  our  own 
days,  \vho  has  not  in  some  fits  of  repentance  or  disappointment 
uttered  some  sharp  reflection  upon  the  emptiness  of  human 
pleasure,  and  of  the  vanity  of  vanities  which  discovers  itself  in 
all  the  pursuits  of  mortal  man. 

10.  And  though  in  our  pilgrimage  through  this  world — some 
of  us  may  be  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  with  some  clear  fountains 
by  the  way,  that  may  cool  for  a  few  moments  the  heat  of  this 
great  thirst  of  happiness — yet  our  Saviour,  who  knew  the  world, 
though  he  enjoyed  but  little  of  it,  tells  us,  that  whosoever  drink- 
eth  of  this  water  will  thirst  again ;  and  we  all  find  by  experi- 
ence, that  it  is  so,  and  by  reason,  that  it  always  must  be  so. 


LESSON  CXV. 
On  Sincerity. — Tillotson. 

1.  Truth  and  sincerity  have  all  the  advantages  of  appear- 
ance and  many  more.  If  the  show  of  any  thing  be  good  for 
any  thinir,  I  am  sure  the  reality  is  better;  for  why  does  any 
man  dissemble,  or  seem  to  be  that  which  he  is  not,  but  because 
he  thinks  it  good  to  have  the  (]ualitics  he  pretends  to?  P'or  to 
counterfeit  and  dissemble,  is  to  put  on  the  appearance  of  some 
real  excellency. 

2.  Now,  the  best  way  for  a  man  to  seem  to  be  any  thing,  is 
really  to  be  what  he  would  seem  to  be.  Besides,  it  is  often  as 
troublesome  to  support  the  pretence  of  a  good  quality,  as  to  have 
it ;  and  if  a  man  have  it  not,  it  is  most  likely  he  will  be  discov- 
ered to  want  it,  and  then  all  his  labor  to  seem  to  have  it  is  lost. 
There  is  something  unnatural  in  painting,  which  a  skilful  eye 
will  easily  discern  from  native  beauty  and  complexion. 

3.  It  is  hard  to  personate  and  act  a  part  long ;  for  where 
truth  is  not  at  the  bottom,  nature  will  always  be  endeavoring  to 
return,  and  will  betray  herself  at  one  time  or  other.  Therefore, 
if  any  man  think  it  convenient  to  seem  good,  let  him  be  so 
indeed,  and  then  his  goodness  will  appear  to  every  one's  satis- 
faction ;  for  truth  is  convincing,  and  carries  its  own  light  and 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  229 

evidence  along  with  it,  and  will  not  only  commend  us  to  every 
man's  conscience,  but  which  is  much  more,  to  God,  who  search- 
eth  our  hearts.  So  that  upon  all  accounts  sincerity  is  true 
wisdom. 

4.  Especially  as  to  the  affairs  of  this  world,  sincerity  hath 
many  advantages  over  all  the  artificial  modes  of  dissimulation 
and  deceit.  It  is  much  the  plainer  and  easier,  much  the  safer 
and  more  secure  way  of  dealing  in  the  world :  it  has  less  of 
trouble  and  difficulty,  of  entanglement  and  perplexity,  of  danger 
and  hazard,  in  it ;  it  is  the  shortest  and  nearest  way  to  our  end, 
carrying  us  thither  in  a  straight  line,  and  will  hold  out  and  last 
longest. 

5.  The  arts  of  deceit  and  cunning  continually  grow  weaker 
and  less  effectual  and  serviceable  to  those  that  practise  them  ; 
whereas  integrity  gains  strength  by  use,  and  the  more  and  lon- 
ger any  man  practiseth  it,  the  greater  service  it  does  him,  by 
confirming  his  reputation,  and  encouraging  those  with  whom  he 
hath  to  do,  to  repose  the  greatest  confidence  in  him,  which  is 
an  unspeakable  advantage  in  business  and  the  affairs  of  life. 

6.  A  dissembler  must  always  be  upon  his  guard  and  watch 
himself  carefully,  that  he  do  not  contradict  his  own  pretensions  ; 
for  he  acts  an  unnatural  part,  and  therefore  must  put  a  continual 
force  and  restraint  upon  himself.  Whereas  he  that  acts  sincere- 
ly hath  the  easiest  task  in  tJie  world;  because  he  follows  nature, 
and  so  is  put  to  no  trouble  and  care  about  his  words  and  actions; 
he  needs  not  invent  any  pretences  beforehand,  nor  make  excuses 
afterwards,  for  any  thing  he  hath  said  or  done. 

7.  But  insincerity  is  very  troublesome  to  manage  ;  a  hypo-" 
crite  has  so  many  things  to  attend  to,  as  make  his  life  a  very 
perplexed  and  intricate  thing.  A  liar  hath  need  of  a  good 
memory,  lest  he  contradict  at  one  time  what  he  said  at  anolner  ; 
but  truth  is  always  consistent  with  itself,  and  needs  nothing  to 
help  it  out ;  it  is  always  near  at  hand,  and  sits  upon  our  lips ; 
whereas  a  lie  is  troublesome,  and  needs  a  great  many  more  to 
make  it  good. 

8.  Add  to  all  this,  that  sincerity  is  the  most  compendious 
wisdom,  and  an  excellent  instrument  for  the  speedy  despatch  of 
business.  It  creates  confidence  in  those  we  have  to  deal  with, 
saves  the  labor  of  many  inquiries,  and  brings  things  to  an  issue 
in  a  few  words.  It  is  like  travelling  in  a  plain  beaten  road, 
which  commonly  brings  a  man  sooner  to  his  journey's  end,  than 
by-ways,  in  which  men  often  lose  themselves. 

9.  In  a  word,  whatsoever  convenience  may  be  thought  to  be 
in  falsehood  and  dissimulation,  it  is  soon  over ;  but  the  incon- 

20 


230  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

venience  of  it  is  perpetual,  because  it  brings  a  man  under  an 
everlasting  jealousy  and  suspicion,  so  that  he  is  not  believed 
when  he  speaks  truth,  nor  trusted  when  perhaps  he  means 
honestly.  When  a  man  hath  once  forfeited  the  reputation  of 
his  integrity,  nothing  will  then  serve  his  turn,  neither  truth  nor 
falsehood. 

10.  Indeed,  if  a  man  were  only  to  deal  in  the  world  for  a 
day,  and  should  never  have  occasion  to  converse  more  with 
mankind,  never  more  need  their  good  opinion  or  good  word,  it 
were  then  no  great  matter  (as  far  as  respects  the  affairs  of  this 
world)  if  he  spent  his  reputation  all  at  once,  and  ventured  it  at 
one  throw. 

11.  But  if  he  be  to  continue  in  the  world,  and  would  have 
the  advantage  of  reputation  whilst  he  is  in  it,  let  him  make  use 
of  truth  and  sincerity  in  all  his  words  and  actions,  for  nothing 
but  this  will  hold  out  to  the  end.  All  other  arts  will  fail,  but 
truth  and  integrity  will  carry  a  man  through,  and  bear  him  out 
to  the  last. 


LESSON  CXVI. 

Story  of  Le  Fevre. — Sterne. 

1.  It  was  sometime  in  the  summer  of  that  year  in  which 
Dendermond*  was  taken  by  the  allies,  when  my  uncle  Toby 
was  one  evening  getting  his  supper,  with  Trim  sitting  behind 
him,  at  a  small  sideboard — I  say  sitting — for  in  consideration 
of  the  corporal's  lame  knee  (which  sometimes  gave  him  exquis- 
ite pain) — when  my  uncle  Toby  dined  or  supped  alone,  he 
would  never  suffer  the  corporal  to  stand. 

2.  And  the  poor  fellow's  veneration  for  his  master  was  such, 
that,  with  a  proper  artillery,  my  uncle  Toby  could  have  taken 
Dendermond  itself,  with  less  trouble  than  he  was  able  to  gain 
this  point  over  him  ;  for  many  a  time  when  my  uncle  'loby 
supposed  the  corporal's  ]eg  was  at  rest,  he  would  look  back  and 
detect  him  standing  behind  him,  with  the  most  dutiful  respect ; 
this  bred  more  little  squabbles  betwixt  them,  than  all  other 
causes,  for  five  and  twenty  years  together. 

3.  He  was  one  evening  sitting  thus  at  his  supper,  when  the 
landlord  of  a  little  inn  in  the  village  came  into  the  parlor,  with 
an  empty  phial  in  his  hand,  to  beg  a  glass  or  two  of  sack  :  'Tia 
for  a  poor  gentleman — I  think  of  the  army,  said  the  landlord, 

•  A  town  in  the  Netherlaoids. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  231 

who  has  been  taken  ill  at  my  house  four  days  ago,  and  has  never 
held  up  his  head  since,  or  had  a  desire  to  taste  any  thing  till  just 
now,  that  he  has  a  fancv  for  a  glass  of  sack,*  and  a  thin  toast 
"  I  think,"  says  he,  taking  his  hand  from  his  forehead, — "  it 
would  comfort  me." 

4.  If  I  could  neither  beg,  borroAV,  nor  buy  such  a  thing — 
added  the  landlord— I  would  almost  steal  it  for  the  poor  gentle- 
man, he  is  so  ill — I  hope  he  will  still  mend,  continued  he — we 
are  all  of  us  concerned  for  him. 

5.  Thou  art  a  good  natured  soul,  I  will  answer  for  thee,  cried 
my  uncle  Toby ;  and  thou  shalt  drink  the  poor  gentleman's 
health  in  a  glass  of  sack  thyself — and  take  a  couple  of  bottles, 
with  my  service,  and  tell  him  he  is  heartily  welcome  to  them, 
and  to  a  dozen  more,  if  they  will  do  him  good. 

6.  Though  I  am  persuaded,  said  my  imcle  Toby,  as  the  land- 
lord shut  the  door,  he  is  a  very  compassionate  fellow.  Trim — 
yet  I  cannot  help  entertaining  a  high  opinion  of  his  guest  too  ; 
there  must  be  something  more  than  common  in  him,  that,  in  so 
short  a  time,  should  win  so  much  upon  the  affections  of  his  host, 
— And  of  his  whole  family,  added  the  corporal,  for  they  are  all 
concerned  for  him.  Step  after  him,  said  my  uncle  Toby — do 
Trim,  and  ask  if  he  knows  his  name. 

7.  I  have  quite  forgot  it,  truly,  said  the  landlord,  coming  back 
into  the  parlor  with  the  corporal — but  I  can  ask  his  son  again. — 
Has  he  a  son  with  him,  then  ?  said  my  uncle  Toby.  A  boy, 
replied  the  landlord,  of  about  eleven  or  twelve  years  of  age  ; — 
but  the  poor  creature  has  tasted  almost  as  little  as  his  father ; 
he  does  nothing  but  mourn  and  lament  for  him  night  and  day. 
He  has  not  stirred  from  the  bed-side  these  two  days. 

8.  My  uncle  Toby  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  thrust 
his  plate  from  before  him,  as  the  landlord  gave  him  the  account : 
and  Trim,  without  being  ordered,  took  them  away,  without  say- 
ing one  word,  and  in  a  few  minutes  after,  brought  him  his  pipe 
and  tobacco. 

9.  Trim  !  said  my  uncle  Toby,  1  have  a  project  in  my  head, 
as  it  is  a  bad  night,  of  wrapping  myself  up  warm  in  my  roque- 
laure,t  and  paying  a  visit  to  this  poor  gentleman.  Your  honor's 
roquelaure,  replied  the  corporal,  has  not  once  been  had  on  since 
the  night  before  your  honor  received  your  wound,  when  we 
mounted  guard  in  the  trenches  before  the  gate  of  St.  Nicholas ; 
— and  besides,  it  is  so  cold  and  rainy  a  night,  that,  what  with 

♦  Sack,  a  species  of  sweet  wine,  brought  chiefly  from  the  Canary  Islands, 
t  PjTQnounced  rok'-e-lo,  a  cloak. 


232  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

the  roquelaure,  and  what  with  the  weather,  it  will  be  enough  to 
give  your  honor  your  death. 

10.  I  fear  so,  replied  my  uncle  Toby  ;  but  I  am  not  at  rest 
in  my  mind.  Trim,  since  the  account  the  landlord  has  given  me 
— I  wish  I  had  not  known  so  much  of  this  aflair — added  my 
uncle  Toby — or  that  I  had  known  more  of  it : — how  shall  we 
manage  it?  Leave  it,  an't*  please  your  honor,  to  me,  quothf 
the  corporal ; — I'll  take  my  hat  and  stick,  and  go  to  the  house, 
and  reconnoitre,  and  act  accordingly :  and  I  will  bring  your 
honor  a  full  account  in  an  hour.  Thou  shalt  go.  Trim,  said 
my  uncle  Toby,  and  here's  a  shilling  for  thee  to  drink  with  his 
servant.  I  shall  get  it  all  out  of  him,  said  the  corporal,  shutting 
the  door. 

11.  It  was  not  till  my  uncle  Toby  had  knocked  the  ashes  out 
of  his  third  pipe,  that  corporal  Trim  returned  from  the  inn,  and 
gave  him  the  following  account : — I  despaired  at  first,  said  the 
corporal,  of  being  able  to  bring  back  your  honor  any  kind  of 
intelligence  concerning  the  poor  sick  lieutenant. — Is  he  of  the 
army,  then  ?  said  my  uncle  Toby. — He  is,  said  the  corporal. — 
And  in  what  regiment  ?  said  my  uncle  Toby — I'll  tell  your 
honor,  replied  the  corporal,  every  thing  straight  forward  as  I 
learnt  it. 

12.  Then,  Trim,  I'll  fill  another  pipe,  said  my  uncle  Toby, 
and  not  interrupt  thee  ; — so  sit  down  at  thy  ease.  Trim,  in  the 
window  seat,  and  begin  thy  story  again.  The  corporal  made 
his  old  bow,  which  generally  spoke  as  plain  as  a  bow  could 
apeak  it,  "  Your  honor  is  good  ;"  and  having  done  that,  he  sat 
down,  as  he  was  ordered — and  began  the  story  to  my  uncle 
Toby  over  again,  in  pretty  near  the  same  words. 

13.  I  despaired  at  first,  said  the  corporal,  of  being  able  to 
bring  back  any  intelligence  to  your  honor,  about  the  lieutenant 
and  his  son ;  for  when  I  asked  where  the  servant  was,  from 
whom  I  made  myself  sure  of  knowing  every  thing  that  was 

proper  to  be  asked That's  a  right  distinction.  Trim,  said 

my  uncle  Toby — I  was  answered,  an't  please  your  honor,  that 
he'  had  no  servant  with  him — That  he  had  come  to  the  inn  with 
hired  horses  ; — which,  upon  finding  himself  unable  to  proceed, 
(to  join,  I  suppose,  the  regiment)  he  had  dismissed  the  morning 
after  he  came. 

14.  If  I  get  better,  my  dear,  said  he,  as  he  gave  his  purse  to 
his  son  to  pay  the  man —  we  can  hire  horses  from  hence.  But 
alas  1  the  poor  gentleman  will  never  get  from  hence,  said  the 

♦  An't,  if  it.  t  auoth,  said. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  233 

landlady  to  me,  for  I  heard  the  death  watch  all  night  long; — 
and  when  he  dies,  the  youth,  his  son,  will  certainly  die  with 
him;  for  he  is  broken  hearted  already. 

15.  I  was  hearing  this  account,  continued  the  corporal,  when 
the  youth  came  into  the  kitchen  to  order  the  thin  toast  the  land- 
lord spoke  of;  but  I  will  do  it  for  my  father  myself,  said  the 
youth.  Pray  let  me  save  you  the  trouble,  young  gentleman, 
said  I,  taking  up  a  fork  for  the  purpose,  and  offering  him  my 
chair  to  sit  down  upon  by  the  fire,  whilst  I  did  it. 

16.  I  believe,  Sir,  said  he  very  modestly,  I  can  please  him 
best  myself. — I  am  sure,  said  I,  his  honor  will  not  like  the  toast 
the  worse  for  being  toasted  by  an  old  soldier.  The  youth  took 
hold  of  my  hand,  and  instantly  burst  into  tears.  Poor  youth  ! 
said  my  uncle  Toby — he  has  been  bred  up  from  an  infant  in  the 
army,  and  the  name  of  a  soldier.  Trim,  sounded  in  his  ears  like 
the  name  of  a  friend.     I  wish  I  had  him  here. 

17.  I  never,  in  the  longest  march,  said  the  corporal,  had 
so  great  a  mind  to  my  dinner,  as  I  had  to  cry  with  him  for  com- 
pany: What  could  be  the  matter  with  me,  an't  please  your 
honor?  Nothing  in  the  world,  Trim,  said  my  uncle  Toby, 
blowing  his  nose — but  that  thou  art  a  good  natured  fellow. 

18.  When  I  gave  him  the  toast,  continued  the  corporal — I 
thought  it  was  proper  to  tell  him  1  was  captain  Shandy's  ser- 
vant, and  that  your  honor  (though  a  stranger)  was  extremely 
concerned  for  his  father;  and  that  if  there  was  any  thing  in 
your  house  or  cellar — (and  thou  mightest  have  added  my  purse 
too,  said  my  uncle  Toby,) — he  was  heartily  welcome  to  it. 

19.  He  made  a  very  low  bow  (which  was  meant  to  your 
honor) — but  no  answer — for  his  heart  was  full — so  he  went  up 
stuirs  with  the  toast;  I  warrant  you,  my  dear,  said  I,  as  I 
opened  the  kitchen  door,  your  father  will  be  well  again.  Mr. 
Yorick's  curate  was  smoking  a  pipe  by  the  kitchen  fire,  but 
said  not  a  word,  good  or  bad,  to  comfort  the  youth.  I  thought 
it  wrong,  added  the  corporal — I  think  so  too,  said  my  uncle 
Toby. 

20.  Wlien  the  lieutenant  had  taken  his  glass  of  sack  and 
toast,  he  felt  himself  a  little  revived,  and  sent  down  into  the 
kitclien,  to  let  me  know,  that  in  about  ten  minutes,  he  should 
be  glad  if  I  would  step  up  stairs. — I  believe,  said  the  landlord, 
he  is  going  to  say  his  prayers — for  there  was  a  book  laid  upon 
the  chair,  by  his  bed-side,  and  as  I  shut  the  door,  I  saw  his  son 
take  up  a  cushion. 

21.  I  thought,  said  the  curate,  that  you  gentlemen  of  the 
army,  Mr.  Trim,  never  said  your  prayers  at  all.     I  heard  the 

30* 


234  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

poor  gentleman  say  his  prayers  last  night,  said  the  landlady, 
very  devoutly,  and  with  my  own  ears,  or  I  could  not  have 
believed  it.  Are  you  sure  of  it  ?  replied  the  curate.  A  soldier, 
an*t  please  your  reverence,  said  I,  prays  as  often  (of  his  own 
accord)  as  a  parson ; — and  when  he  is  fighting  for  his  king, 
and  for  his  own  life,  and  for  his  honor  too,  he  has  the  most 
reason  to  pray  to  God  of  any  one  in  the  whole  world. 

22.  'Twas  well  said  of  thee.  Trim,  said  my  uncle  Toby, — 
but  when  a  soldier,  said  I,  an't  please  your  reverence,  has  been 
standing  for  twelve  hours  together,  in  the  trenches,  up  to  his 
knees  in  cold  water — or  engaged,  said  I,  for  months  together, 
in  long  and  dangerous  marches :  harassed,  perhaps,  in  his  rear 
to-day ;  harassing  others  to-morrow  ; — detached  here — coun- 
termanded there — resting  this  night  out  upon  his  arms — beat  up 
in  his  shirt  the  next — benumbed  in  his  joints — perhaps  without 
straw  in  his  tent  to  kneel  on — he  must  say  his  prayers  how  and 
when  he  can. 

23.  I  believe,  said  I, — for  Iwas  piqued,*  quoth  the  corporal, 
for  the  reputation  of  the  army — I  believe,  an't  please  your  rev- 
erence, said  I,  that  when  a  soldier  gets  time  to  pray — he  prays 
as  heartily  as  a  parson — though  not  with  all  his  fuss  and  hypoc- 
risy. Thou  shouldst  not  have  said  that,  Trim,  said  my  uncle 
Toby — for  God  only  knows  who  is  a  hypocrite,  and  who  is  not. 
At  the  great  and  geneml  review  of  us  all,  corporal,  at  the  day 
of  judgment  (and  not  till  then) — it  will  be  seen  who  have  done 
their  duties  in  this  world,  and  who  have  not ;  and  we  shall  be 
advanced.  Trim,  accordingly. 

24.  I  hope  we  shall,  said  Trim. — It  is  in  the  scripture,  said 
my  uncle  Toby  ;  and  I  will  show  it  thee  to-morrow : — In  the 
mean  time,  we  may  depend  upon  it.  Trim,  for  our  comfort,  said 
my  uncle  Toby,  that  God  Almighty  is  so  good  and  just  a  gov- 
ernor of  the  world,  that  if  we  have  but  done  our  duties  in  it — it 
will  nev^er  be  inquired  into,  whether  we  have  done  them  in  a  red 
coat  or  a  black  one : — I  hope  not,  said  the  corporal. — But  go  on, 
Trim,  said  my  uncle  Toby,  with  the  story. 

25.  When  I  went  up,  continued  the  corporal,  into  the  lieu- 
tenant's room,  which  I  did  not  do  till  the  expiration  of  the  t-en 
minutea,  he  was  laying  in  his  bed,  with  his  head  raised  upon  his 
hand,  his  elbows  upon  the  pillow,  and  a  clean  white  cambric 
handkerchief  beside  it:  The  youth  was  just  stooping  down  to 
tj\ke  up  the  cushion  upon  which  I  supposed  he  had  been  kneel- 
ing— the  book  was  laid  upon  the  bed — and  as  he  rose,  in  taking 

*  Pronounced  peek'd,  offended. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  235 

up  the  cushion  with  one  hand,  he  reached  out  his  other  to  take 
the  book  away  at  the  same  time.  Let  it  remain  there,  my  dear, 
said  the  Keutenant. 

26.  He  did  not  offer  to  speak  to  me  till  I  had  walked  up 
close  to  his  bed  side  :  If  you  are  captain  Shandy's  servant,  said 
he,  you  must  present  my  thanks  to  your  master,  with  my  little 
boy's  thanks  along  with  them,  for  his  courtesy  to  me : — if  he 

was  of  Leven's said  the  lieutenant.     I  told  him  your  honor 

was then,  said  he,  I  served  three  campaigns  with  him  in 

Flanders,  and  remember  him  ;  but  'tis  most  likely,  as  I  had  not 
the  honor  of  any  acquaintance  with  him,  that  he  knows  nothing 
of  me. 

27.  You  will  tell  him,  however,  that  the  person  his  good 
nature  has  laid  under  obligations  to  him,  is  one  Le  Fevre,  a 

lieutenant  in  Angus's* but  he  knows  me  not — said  he  a 

second  time,  musing ; — possibly  he  may  my  story — added  he — 
pray  tell  the  captain,  I  was  the  ensign  at  Breda,t  whose  wife 
was  most  unfortunately  killed  with  a  musket  shot,  as  she  lay  in 
my  arms  in  my  tent. — I  remember  the  story,  an't  please  your 
honor,  said  I,  very  well. 

28.  Do  you  so  ?  said  he,  wiping  his  eyes  with  his  handker- 
chief— then  well  may  I. In  saying  this,  he  drew  a  little  ring 

out  of  his  bosom,  Avhich  seemed  tied  with  a  black  riband  about 
his  neck,  and  kissed  it  twice. — Here,  Billy,  said  he — the  boy 
flew  across  the  room  to  the  bed  side,  and  falling  down  upon  his 
knee,  took  the  ring  in  his  hand,  and  kissed  it  too,  then  kissed 
his  father,  and  sat  down  upon  the  bed  and  wept. 

29.  I  wish,  said  my  uncle  Toby  with  a  deep  sigh — I  wish, 
Trim,  I  was  asleep. — Your  honor,  replied  the  corporal,  is  too 
much  concerned  :  shall  I  pour  your  honor  out  a  glass  of  sack 
to  your  pipe  ?  Do,  Trim,  said  my  uncle  Toby. 

30.  I  remember,  said  my  uncle  Toby,  sighing  again,  the 
story  of  the  ensign  and  his  wife,  and  particularly  well,  that 
he  as  well  as  she,  upon  some  account  or  other,  (I  forget  what,) 
was  universally  pitied  by  the  whole  regiment ;  but  finish  the 
story. 

31.  'Tis  finished  already,  said  the  corporal,  for  I  could  stay 
no  longer,  so  wished  his  honor  a  good  night ;  youn^  Le  Fevre 
rose  from  off"  the  bed  ;  and  saw  me  to  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  ; 
and  as  we  went  down  together,  told  me  they  had  come  from 
Ireland,  and  were  on  their  route  to  join  the  regiment  in  Flan- 
ders.    But,  alas  !  said  the  corporal,  the  lieutenant's  last  day's 

•  Angus's  regiment.  t  A  town  in  the  Netherlands. 


236  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

march  is  over.     Then  what  is  to  become  of  his  poor  boy  ?  cried 
my  uncle  Toby. 

32.  Thou  hast  left  this  matter  short,  said  my  micle  Toby,  to 
the  corporal,  as  he  was  putting  him  to  bed,  and  I  will  tell  thee 
in  what,  Trim.  In  the  first  place,  when  thou  mad'st  an  offer 
of  my  services  to  Le  Fevre,  as  sickness  and  travelling  are  both 
expensive,  and  thou  knewest  lie  was  but  a  poor  lieutenant,  with 
a  son  to  subsist,  as  well  as  himself,  out  of  his  pay,  that  thou 
didst  not  make  an  offer  to  him  of  my  purse,  because,  had  he 
stood  in  need,  thou  knowest.  Trim,  he  had  been  as  welcome  to 
it  as  myself.  Your  honor  knows,  said  the  corporal,  I  had  no 
orders :  True,  quoth  my  uncle  Toby,  thou  didst  very  right, 
Trim,  as  a  soldier,  but  certainly,  very  wrong,  as  a  man. 

33.  In  the  second  place,  for  which,  indeed,  thou  hast  the 
same  excuse,  continued  my  uncle  Toby,  when  thou  offeredst 
him  whatever  was  in  my  house,  that  thou  shouldesthave  offered 
him  my  house  too :  A  sick  brother  officer  should  have  the  best 
quarters,  Trim  ;  and  if  we  had  him  with  us,  we  could  tend  and 
look  to  him  ;  thou  art  an  excellent  nurse  thyself.  Trim,  and 
what  with  thy  care  of  him,  and  the  old  woman's,  and  his  boy's, 
and  mine  together,  we  might  recruit  him  again  at  once,  and  set 
him  upon  his  legs. 

34.  In  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks,  added  my  uncle  Toby, 
smiling,  he  might  march.  He  will  never  march,  an't  please 
your  honor,  in  this  world,  said  the  corporal.  He  will  march, 
said  my  uncle  Toby,  rising  up  from  the  side  of  the  bed,  with 
one  shoe  off.  An't  please  your  honor,  said  the  corporal,  he  will 
never  march,  but  to  his  jrrave.  He  shall  march,  cried  my  uncle 
Toby,  marching  the  foot  which  had  a  shoe  on,  though  without 
advancing  an  inch,  he  shall  march  to  his  regiment.  He  cannot 
stand  it,  said  the  corporal.  He  shall  be  supported,  said  my  uncle 
Toby.  He'll  drop  at  last,  said  the  corporal,  and  what  will 
become  of  his  boy  ?  He  shall  not  drop,  said  my  uncle  Toby, 
firmly.  A  well  o'day,  do  what  we  can  for  him,  said  Trim, 
maintaining  his  point,  the  poor  soul  will  die.  He  shall  not  die, 
by  H n,  cried  my  uncle  Toby. 

'  35.  — The  Accusing  Spirit,  which  flew  up  to  Heaven's 
chancery  with  the  oath,  blushed  as  he  gave  it  in ;  and  the 
Rkcording  Anc^el,  as  he  wrote  it  down,  dropped  a  tear  upon 
the  word,  and  blotted  it  out  for  ever. 

36.  — My  uncle  Toby  went  to  his  l^ureau,  put  his  purse  into 
his  pocket,  and  having  ordered  the  corporal  to  go  early  in  the 
morning  for  a  physician,  he  went  to  bed  and  fell  asleep. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  237 

37.  The  sun  looked  bright  the  morning-  after,  to  every  eye 
in  the  village  but  Le  Fevre's  and  his  afflicted  son's ;  the  hand 
of  death  pressed  heavy  upon  his  eyelids,  and  hardly  could  the 
wheel  at  the  cistern  turn  round  its  circle,  when  my  uncle  Toby, 
who  had  got  up  an  hour  before  his  wonted  time,  entered  the 
lieutenant's  room,  and  without  preface  or  apology,  sat  himself 
down  upon  the  chair  by  the  bed  side,  and  independently  of  all 
modes  and  customs,  opened  the  curtain,  in  the  manner  an  old 
friend  and  brother  officer  would  have  done  it,  and  asked  him 
how  he  did — how  he  had  rested  in  the  night — what  was  his 
complaint — where  was  his  pain — and  what  he  could  do  to  help 
him  ?  And  without  giving  him  time  to  answer  any  one  of  these 
inquiries,  went  on  and  told  him  of  the  little  plan  which  he  had 
been  concerting  with  the  corporal,  the  night  before,  for  him. 

38.  You  shall  go  home  directly,  Le  Fevre,  said  my  uncle 
Toby,  to  my  house — and  we'll  send  for  a  doctor  to  see  what'a 
the  matter — and  we'll  have  an  apothecary — and  the  corporal 
shall  be  your  nurse — and  I'll  be  your  servant,  Le  Fevre. 

39.  There  was  a  frankness  in  my  uncle  Toby — not  the  effect 
of  familiarity,  but  the  cause  of  it — which  let  you  at  once  into 
his  soul,  and  showed  you  the  goodness  of  his  nature ;  to  this 
there  was  something  in  his  looks,  and  voice,  and  manner,  super- 
added, which  eternally  beckoned  to  the  unfortunate  to  come  and 
take  shelter  under  him  ;  so  that  before  my  uncle  Toby  had  half 
finished  the  kind  offers  he  was  making  to  the  father,  had  the 
son  insensibly  pressed  up  close  to  his  knees,  and  had  taken  hold 
of  the  breast  of  his  coat,  and  was  pulling  it  towards  him. 

40.  The  blood  and  spirit  of  Le  Fevre,  which  were  waxing 
cold  and  slow  within  him,  and  were  retreating  to  their  last 
citadel,  the  heart,  rallied  back — the  film  forsook  his  eyes  for  a 
moment,  he  looked  up  wistfully  in  my  uncle  Toby's  face — then 
cast  a  look  upon  his  boy. — Nature  instantly  ebb'd  again — the 
film  returned  to  its  place — the  pulse  fluttered,  stopped — went 
on — throbbed — stopped  again — moved — stopped — shall  I  go 
on  ?— No. 


LESSON  CXVII. 

Prince  Henry  and  Falstaff. — Shakspeare. 

P.  Henry.  Welcome,  Jack! — Where  hast  thou  been? 

Fal.  A  plague  of  all  cowards,  I  say,  and  a  vengeance  too, 
marry  and  amen !  Give  me  a  cup  of  sack,  boy : — ere  I  lead  this 
life  long,  I'll  sew  nether  socks  and  mend  them,  and  foot  theio 


238  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

too.  A  plague  of  all  cowards !  give  me  a  cup  of  sack,  rogue. 
Is  there  no  virtue  extant?  [he  drinks.] — You  rogue,  here's 
lime  in  this  sack  too.  There  is  nothing  but  roguery  to  be  found 
in  villanous  man ;  yet  a  coward  is  worse  than  a  cup  of  sack 
with  lime  in  it.  A  villanous  coward  ! — Go  thy  ways,  old  Jack; 
die  when  thou  wilt,  if  manhood,  good  manhood,  be  not  forgot 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  then  am  I  a  shotten  herring.  There 
live  not  three  good  men  unhang'd  in  England,  and  one  of  them 
is  fat  and  grows  old,  Heaven  help  the  while  !  A  bad  world  !  I 
Bay — A  plague  of  all  cowards  !  I  say  still. 

P.  Henry.  How  now  Woolsack !  what  mutter  you  ? 

Fal.  A  king's  son !  if  I  do  not  beat  thee  out  of  thy  kingdom 
with  a  dagger  of  lath,  and  drive  all  thy  subjects  afore  thee  like 
a  flock  of  wild  geese,  I'll  never  wear  hair  on  my  face  more ! 
You  Prince  of  Wales  ! 

P.  Henry.  Why,  what's  the  matter? 

Fal.  Are  you  not  a  coward?  answer  me  that. 

P.  Henry.  An'*  ye  call  me  coward,  I'll  stab  thee. 

Fal.  I  call  thee  coward!  I'll  see  thee  hang'd  ere  I'll  call  thee 
coward  ;  but  I  would  give  a  thousand  pound  I  could  run  as  fast 
as  thou  canst.  You're  straight  enough  in  the  shoulders;  you 
care  not  who  sees  your  back.  Call  you  that  backing  of  friends? 
a  plague  upon  such  backing!  give  me  them  that  will  face  me — 
give  me  a  cup  of  sack :  I  am  a  rogue  if  I  drank  to-day. 

P.  Henry.  O  villain !  thy  lips  are  scarce  wipM  since  thou 
drank'st  last. 

Fal.  All's  one  for  that.  [He  drinks.]  A  plague  of  all  cow- 
ards !  still,  say  I. 

P.  Henry.  What's  the  matter? 

Fal.  What's  the  matter !  here  be  four  of  us  have  ta'en  a 
thousand  pound  this  morning. 

P.  Henry.  Where  is  it,  Jack  ?  Where  is  it  ? 

Fal.  Where  is  it  I  taken  from  us,  it  is :  a  hundred  upon  four 
of  us. 

P.  Henry.  What !  a  hundred,  man  ? 

Fal.  I  am  a  rogue  if  I  were  not  at  half-sword  \vith  a  dozen 
of  them  two  hours  together.  I  have  escaped  by  a  miracle.  I  am 
eight  times  thrust  through  the  doublet,  four  through  the  hose, 
my  buckler  cut  through  and  through,  my  sword  hack'd  like  a 
handsaw — I  never  dealt  better  since  I  was  a  man:  all  would 
not  do.     A  plague  of  all  cowards ! 

P.  Henry.  What,  fought  you  with  them  all? 

♦  An',  i£ 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  239 

Fal.  All !  I  know  not  what  ye  call  all ;  but  if  I  fought  not 
with  fifty  of  them,  I  am  a  bunch  of  radish  ;  if  there  were  not 
two  or  three  and  fifty  upon  poor  old  Jack,  then  I  am  no  two- 
legg'd  creature. 

P.  Henry.  Pray  Heav'n,  you  have  not  murder'd  some  of 
them  ! 

Fal.  Nay,  that's  past  praying  for.  I  have  pepper'd  two  of 
them  ;  two,  I  am  sure,  I  have  paid  ;  two  rogues  in  buckram 
suits.  I  tell  thee  what,  Hal,  if  I  tell  thee  a  lie,  spit  in  my  face, 
call  me  horse.  Thou  knowest  my  old  ward  :  here  I  lay,  and 
thus  I  bore  my  point ;  four  rogues  in  buckram  let  drive  at  me. 

P.  Henry.  What,  four  !  thou  saidst  but  two  even  now. 

Fal.  Four,  Hal,  I  told  thee  four, — These  four  came  all 
afront,  and  mainly  thrust  at  me  :  I  made  no  more  ado,  but  took 
all  their  seven  points  in  my  target,*  thus. 

P.  Henry.  Seven  !  why  they  were  but  four  even  now. 

Fal.  In  buckram  ? 

P.  Henry.  Ay,  four,  in  buckram  suits. 

Fal.  Seven  by  these  hilts,  or  I  am  a  villain  else.  Dost  thoa 
hear  me,  Hal  ? 

P.  Henry.  Ay,  and  mark  thee  too.  Jack. 

Fal.  Do  so,  for  it  is  worth  the  listening  to.  These  nine  in 
buckram,  that  I  told  thee  of — 

P.  Henry.  So,  two  more  already. 

Fal.  Their  points  being  broken,  began  to  give  me  ground  ; 
but  I  followed  me  close,  came  in  foot  and  hand,  and,  with  a 
thought — seven  of  the  eleven  I  paid. 

P.  Henry.  O  monstrous  !  eleven  buckram  men  grown  out  of 
two. 

Fal.  But  as  Satan  would  have  it,  three  misbegotten  knaves, 
in  Kendal-green,  came  at  my  back,  and  let  drive  at  me  ;  for  it 
was  so  dark,  Hal,  that  thou  couldst  not  see  thy  hand. 

P.  Henry.  These  lies  are  like  the  father  that  begets  them, 
rross  as  a  mountain,  open,  palpable.  Why,  thou  clay-brained 
neap,  thou  knotty-pated  fool — 

Fal.  What,  art  thou  mad  ?  art  thou  mad  ?  is  not  the  truth 
the  truth. 

P.  Henry.  Why,  how  couldst  thou  know  these  men  in  Ken- 
dal-green, when  it  was  so  dark  thou  couldst  not  see  thy  hand  T 
Come,  tell  us  your  reason  :  what  say'st  thou  to  this  ?  Come, 
your  reason,  Jack,  your  reason. 


•  Target,  a  small  shield,  used  as  a  defenaive  weapon. 


iJ40  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Fal.  What,  upon  compulsion ! — No :  were  I  at  the  strappado,* 
or  all  the  racks  in  the  world,  I  woidd  not  tell  you  on  compul- 
sion ?  Give  you  a  reason  on  compulsion  !  If  reasons  were  as 
plenty  as  blackberries,  I  would  give  no  man  a  reason  upon 
compulsion. 

P.  Henry.  I'll  be  no  longer  guilty  of  this  sin.  This  sanguine 
coward,  this  horse-back-breaker,  this  huge  hill  of  flesh — 

Fal.  Away,  you  starveling,  you  elf-skin,  you  dry'd  neat's 
tongue,  you  stock-fish  !  O,  for  breath  to  utter !  what  is  like 
thee  ? 

P.  Henry.  Well,  breathe  a  while,  and  then  to't  again  ;  and 
when  thou  hast  tir'd  thyself  in  base  comparisons,  hear  me  speak 
but  this  : — Poins  and  I  saw  you  four  set  on  four ;  you  bound 
them,  and  were  masters  of  their  wealth  :  mark  now,  how  a  plain 
tale  shall  put  you  down.  Then  did  we  two  set  on  you  four, 
and  with  a  word  out-fac'd  you  from  your  prize,  and  have  it ; 
yea,  and  can  show  it  you  here  in  the  house.  And,  Falstaff,  you 
carry'd  yourself  away  as  nimbly,  with  as  quick  dexterity,  and 
roar'd  for  mercy,  and  still  ran  and  roar'd,  as  ever  I  heard  a  calf. 
What  a  slave  art  thou,  to  hack  thy  sword  as  thou  hast  done, 
and  then  say  it  was  in  fight !  What  trick,  what  device,  what 
starting-hole  canst  thou  now  find  out,  to  hide  thee  from  this 
open  and  apparent  shame  ? 

Fal.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! — D'ye  think  I  did  not  know  you  ?  I 
knew  you  as  well  as  he  that  made  you.  Why,  hear  ye,  my 
master,  was  it  for  me  to  kill  the  heir-apparent  ?  should  I  turn 
upon  the  true  prince  ?  why,  thou  knowest,  I  am  as  valiant  as 
Hercules  ;t  but  beware  instinct ;  the  lion  will  not  touch  the 
true  prince  ;  instinct  is  a  great  matter.  I  was  a  coward  on 
instinct,  I  grant  you  :  and  I  shall  think  the  better  of  myself 
and  thee  during  my  life ;  I  for  a  valiant  lion,  and  thou  for  a 
true  prince.  But  I  am  glad  you  have  the  money.  Let  us  clap 
to  the  doors  ;  watch  to-night,  pray  to-morrow.  What,  shall 
we  be  merry  ?  shall  we  have  a  play  extempore  ? 

P.  Henry.  Content ! — and  the  argmiient  shall  be,  thy  run- 
ning away. 

Fal.  Ah  !  no  more  of  that,  Hal,  an'  thou  lovest  me. 


•  Strappado,  a  punishment  formerly  in  use,  in  which  the  offender  wa« 
drawn  to  the  top  of  a  beam,  and  let  fall. 

t  Pronounced  Uer'-cu-lees,  a  Grecian  hero,  distinguished  for  his  strength 
and  valor. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  241 

LESSON  CXVIII. 

Scene  from  the  Tragedy  of  King  John. — Shakspeare. 

Prince  Arthur,  Hubert,  and  Attendants. 

Scene. — A  room  in  the  castle,  Northampton. 

Enter  Hubert  and  two  Attendants. 

Hubert.  Heat  me  these  irons  hot :  and  look  thou  stand 
Within  the  arras  :  when  I  strike  my  foot 
Upon  the  bosom  of  the  ground,  rush  forth, 
And  bind  the  boy,  which  you  shall  find  with  me. 
Fast  to  the  chair :  be  heedful :  hence,  and  watch. 

1  Attendant.  I  hope,  your  warrant  will  bear  out  the  deed. 

Hub,  Uncleanly  scruples  !  Fear  not  you  :  look  to't — 

[Exeunt  Attendants. 
Young  lad,  come  forth ;  I  have  to  say  with  you. 

Enter  Arthur. 

Arthur.  Good  morrow,  Hubert. 

Hub.  Good  morrow,  little  prince, 

Arth.  As  little  prince  (having  so  great  a  title 
To  be  more  prince,)  as  may  be. — You  are  sad. 

Hub.  Indeed,  I  have  been  merrier. 

Arth.  Mercy  on  me  ! 

Methinks,  no  body  should  be  sad  but  I : 
Yet  I  remember  when  I  was  in  France, 
Young  gentlemen  would  be  as  sad  as  ni^ht. 
Only  for  wantonness.     By  my  Christendom, 
So  I  were  out  of  prison,  and  kept  sheep, 
I  should  be  merry  as  the  day  is  long ; 
And  so  I  would  be  here,  but  that  I  doubt 
My  uncle  practises  more  harm  to  me  ! 
He  is  afraid  of  me,  and  I  of  him  ; 
Is  it  my  fault  that  I  were  Jeffrey's  son  ? 
No  indeed,  is't  not ;  and  I  would  to  heaven, 
I  were  your  son,  so  you  would  love  me,  Hubert 

Hub.  If  I  talk  to  him,  with  his  innocent  prate 
He  will  awake  my  mercy,  which  lies  dead : 
Therefore  I  will  be  sudden,  and  despatch.  [Asids^ 

Arth.  Are  you  sick,  Hubert  ?  You  look  pale  to-day. 
In  sooth,  I  would  you  were  a  little  sick  ; 
That  I  might  sit  all  night,  and  Avatch  with  you. 
I  warrant,  I  love  you  more  than  you  do  me. 

21 


242  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Huh.  His  words  do  take  possession  of  my  bosom. — 
Read  here,  young  Arthur.  [Showing  a  paper.]  How  now,  fool- 
ish rheum?  [Aside. 
Turning  dispiteous  torture  out  the  door  I 
I  must  be  brief;  lest  resolution  drop 
Out  at  mine  eyes,  in  tender  womanish  tears. — 
Can  you  not  read  it  ?  Is  it  not  fair  writ  ? 

Arth.  Too  fairly,  Hubert,  for  so  foul  effect : 
Must  you  with  hot  irons  burn  out  both  mine  eyes ! 

Hub,  Young  boy,  I  must. 

Arth.  And  will  you  ? 

Hub.  And  I  will. 

Arth.  Have  you  the  heart  ?  "'tVhen  your  head  did  but  ache, 
I  knit  my  handkerchief  about  your  brows, 
(The  best  I  had,  a  princess  wrought  it  me,) 
And  I  did  never  ask  it  you  again  : 
And  with  my  hand  at  midnight  held  your  head, 
And  like  the  watchful  minutes  to  the  hour, 
Still  and  anon  cheered  up  the  heavy  time ; 
Saying,  What  lack  you?  and,  Where  lies  your  grief? 
Or,  What  good  love  may  I  perform  for  you  ? 
Majiy  a  poor  man's  son  would  have  lain  still, 
And  ne'er  have  spoke  a  loving  word  to  you ; 
But  you  at  your  sick  service  had  a  prince. 
Nay,  you  may  think,  my  love  was  crafty  love, 
And  call  it  cunning  :  do,  and  if  you  will : 
If  heaven  be  pleased  that  you  should  use  me  ill, 
Why,  then  you  must. — Will  you  put  out  mine  eyes  ? 
These  eyes  that  never  did,  nor  never  shall. 
So  much  as  frown  on  ytm  ? 

Hub.  I  have  sworn  to  do  it; 

And  with  hot  irons  must  I  burn  them  out. 

Arth.  Ah,  none,  but  in  this  iron  age  wr»uld  do  it: 
The  iron  of  itself,  though  heat  red-hot. 
Approaching  near  these  eyes,  would  drink  my  tears, 
And  quench  its  fiery  indignation, 
Even  in  the  matter  of  mine  innocence : 
Nay,  after  that,  consume  away  in  rust, 
But  for  containinor  fire  to  harm  mine  eve. 
Are  you  more  stubborn-hard  than  hammered  iron  ? 
And  if  an  angel  should  have  come  to  me. 
And  told  me,  Hubert  should  put  out  mine  eyes, 
I  would  have  believed  no  tonuue  but  Hubert's. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  243 

Huh.  Come  forth.  ^  [Stamps. 

Re-e7iter  Attendants,  with  cord,  irons,  SfC, 
Do  as  I  bid  you  do. 

Arth.  O,  save  me,  Hubert,  save  me !  My  eyes  are  out 
Even  with  the  fierce  looks  of  the  bloody  men. 

Huh.  Give  me  the  iron,  I  say,  and  bind  him  here. 

Arth.  Alas  !  what  need  you  be  so  boisterous  rough : 
I  will  not  struggle,  I  will  stand  stone-still. 
For  heaven's  sake,  Hubert,  let  me  not  be  bound  ! 
Nay,  hear  me  Hubert !  drive  these  men  away, 
And  I  will  sit  as  quiet  as  a  lamb  ; 
I  will  not  stir,  nor  wince,  nor  speak  a  word, 
Nor  look  upon  the  irons  angrily ; 
Thrust  but  these  men  away,  and  I'll  forgive  you, 
Whatever  torment  you  do  put  me  to. 

Huh.  Go,  stand  within :  let  me  alone  with  him. 

1  Atten.  I  am  best  pleased  to  be  from  such  a  deed. 

[Exeunt  Attendants. 

Arth.  Alas  !  I  then  have  chid  away  my  friend : 
He  hath  a  stern  look,  but  a  gentle  heart : — 
Let  him  come  back,  that  his  compassion  may 
Give  life  to  yours. 

Huh.  Come,  boy,  prepare  yourself. 

Arth.  Is  there  no  remedy  ? 

Huh.  None,  but  to  lose  your  eyes. 

Arth.  O  heaven  !  that  there  were  but  a  mote  in  yours, 
A  grain,  a  dust,  a  gnat,  a  wandering  hair, 
Any  annoyance  in  that  precious  sense  ! 
Then,  feeling  what  small  things  are  boisterous  there, 
Your  vile  intent  must  needs  seem  horrible. 

Huh.  Is  this  your  promise  ?  Go  to,  hold  your  tongue. 

Arth.  Hubert,  the  utterance  of  a  brace  of  tongues 
Must  needs  want  pleading  for  a  pair  of  eyes  : 
Let  me  not  hold  my  tongue ;  let  mWnot,  Hubert  I 
Or,  Hubert,  if  you  will,  cut  out  m,y  tongue, 
So  I  may  keep  mine  eyes  ;  O,  spare  mine  eyes ; 
Though  to  no  use,  but  still  to  look  on  you ! 
Lo  !  by  my  troth,  the  instrument  is  cold, 
And  would  not  harm  me. 

Huh.  I  can  heat  it,  boy. 

Arth.  No,  in  good  sooth,  the  fire  is  dead  with  grief — 
Being  create  for  comfort — to  be  used 
In  undeserved  extremes  :  See  else  yourself; 
Tliere  is  no  malice  in  this  burning  coal ; 


344  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

The  breath  of  heaven  hath  blown  its  spirit  out, 
And  strewed  repentant  ashes  on  his  head. 

Hub.  But  with  my  breath  I  can  revive  it,  boy. 

Arth.  And  if  you  do,  you  will  but  make  it  blush, 
And  glow  with  shame  of  your  proceedings,  Hubert ; 
Nay,  it  perchance  ^vill  sparkle  in  your  eyes, 
And,  like  a  dog,  that  is  compelled  to  fight, 
Snatch  at  his  master  that  does  set  him  on. 
All  things,  that  you  should  use  to  do  me  wrong. 
Deny  their  office ;  only  you  do  lack 
That  mercy,  which  fierce  fire,  and  iron,  extends — 
Creatures  of  note,  for  mercy-lacking  uses. 

Huh.  Well,  see  to  live  ;  I  will  not  touch  thine  eyes 
For  all  the  treasure  that  thine  uncle  owns  ; 
Yet  I  am  sworn,  and  I  did  purpose,  boy, 
With  this  same  very  iron  to  burn  them  out. 

Arth.  O,  now  you  look  like  Hubert !  all  this  while 
You  were  disguised. 

Hub.  Peace  :  no  more  ;  Adieu  ! — 

Your  uncle  must  not  know  but  you  are  dead  : 
ril  fill  these  dogged  spies  with  false  reports. 
And,  pretty  child,  sleep  doubtless,  and  secure 
That  Hubert,  for  the  wealth  of  all  the  world. 
Will  not  oftend  thee. 

Arth.  O  heaven ! — I  thank  you,  Hubert. 

Hub.  Silence :  no  more.     Go  closely  in  with  me ; 
Much  danger  do  I  undergo  for  thee.  [Exeunt. 


LESSON  CXIX. 

Speechofa  Scythian*  A  mbassador  to  Alexander. — Q.  Curtiits. 

1.  When  the  Scythian  ambassadors  waited  on  Alexander  the 
Great,  they  gazed  on  l\im  a  long  time  witliout  speaking  a  word; 
being  very  probably  surprised,  as  they  formed  a  judgment  of 
men  from  their  air  and  stature,  to  find  that  his  did  not  answer 
the  high  idea  they  entertained  of  him  from  his  fame. 

2.  At  last  the  oldest  of  the  ambassadors  addressed  him  thus: 
"  Had  the  gods  given  thee  a  body  proportionable  to  thy  ambi- 
tion, the  whole  universe  would  have  been  too  little  for  thee. 
With  one  hand  thou  wouldst  touch  the  East,  and  with  the  other 
the  West ;  and  not  satisfied  with  this,  thou  wouldst  follow  the 
sun,  and  know  where  he  hides  himself. 

*  The  Scythians  were  a  wandering  people,  in  the  eastern  part  of  Europe 
and  western  part  of  Asia. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  245 

3.  "  But  what  have  we  to  do  with  thee?  We  never  set  foot  in 
thy  country.  May  not  those  who  inhabit  woods  be  allowed  to 
live,  without  knowing  who  thou  art,  and  whence  thou  comest? 
We  will  neither  command  over,  nor  submit  to  any  man. 

4.  "  And  that  thou  mayst  be  sensible  what  kind  of  people 
the  Scythians  are,  know  that  we  received  frortl  heaven,  as  a  rich 
present,  a  yoke  of  oxen,  a  ploughshare,  a  dart,  a  javelin,  and  a 
cup.  These  we  make  use  of,  both  with  our  friends,  and  against 
our  enemies. 

5.  "  To  our  friends  we  give  corn,  which  we  procure  by  the 
labor  of  our  oxen;  with  them  we  offer  wine  to  the  gods  in  our 
cup;  and  with  regard  to  our  enemies,  we  combat  them  at  a  dis- 
tance with  our  arrows,  and  near  at  hand  with  our  javelins. 

6.  "  But  thou,  who  boastest  thy  coming  to  extirpate  robbers, 
art  thyself  the  greatest  robber  upon  earth.  Thou  hast  plunder- 
ed all  nations  thou  overcamest ;  thou  hast  possessed  thyself  of 
Libya,  invaded  Syria,  Persia,  and  Bactriana;  thou  art  forming 
a  design  to  march  as  far  as  India,  and  now  thou  comest  hither  to 
seize  upon  our  l^^^ls  of  cattle. 

7.  "The  grer.i  possessions  thou  hast,  only  make  thee  covet 
the  more  eageily  what  thou  hast  not.  If  thou  art  a  god,  thou 
oiightest  to  do  good  to  mortals,  and  not  deprive  them  of  their 
possessions. 

8.  "If  thou  art  a  mere  man,  reflect  always  on  what  thou  art. 
They  whom  thou  shalt  not  molest  will  be  thy  true  friends ;  the 
strongest  friendships  being  contracted  between  equals ;  and  they 
are  esteemed  equals  who  have  not  tried  their  strength  against 
each  other.  But  do  not  suppose  that  those  whom  thou  conquer- 
est  can  love  thee." 


LESSON  CXX. 

Diogenes  at  the  Isthmian  Games  * — Wakefield's  Dig  Chry- 

SOSTOM. 

1.  The  cynic  philosopher  Diogenes,!  observing  a  pefson 
stalking  from  the  Stadium,!  ^^^  *^^  midst  of  so  immense  a  multi- 

*  So  called  from  their  being  celebrated  on  the  Isthmus  of  Corinth,  in  the 
soQthern  part  of  Greece. 

t  Diogenes  was  a  celebrated  cynic  philosopher,  born  420  years  B.  C,  at 
Sinope.  He  was  reinarkable  for  his  contempt  of  riches,  and  for  his  negli- 
gence in  dress  ;  he  had  no  food  but  what  was  brought  to  him  daily  ;  and  he 
lived  in  a  tub,  of  which  he  turned  the  open  side  toward  the  sun  in  winter, 
and  the  contrary  in  summer.  After  a  life  spent  in  the  greatest  indigene© 
and  misery,  he  died  in  the  96th  year  of  his  age. 

t  A  place  for  running,  wrestling,  &c. 

21* 


346  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

tilde,  as  sometimes  not  even  to  touch  the  ground,  but  to  be  borne 
aloft  by  the  concourse  round  him  :  some  following  close  upon 
him  with  loud  acclamations,  others  leaping  with  exultation  and 
raising  their  hands  to  heaven;  others  again  throwing  garlands 
and  fillets*  at  the  man — as  soon  as  he  was  able  to  approach, 
inquired,  What  this  tumultuous  assemblage  of  people  was  doing? 
and,  What  had  happened  ?  The  man  replied,  "  I  have  gained 
the  victory,  Diogenes  !  over  the  runners  in  the  Stadium." 

2.  "  What  is  the  nature  of  this  victory  ?"  said  he.  "  Your 
understanding,  I  presume,  has  acquired  not  even  the  slenderest 
improvements  from  your  superiority  of  speed  over  your  compe- 
titors ;  nor  are  you  become  more  temperate  and  continent  than 
before ;  nor  less  timorous,  nor  less  a  prey  to  melancholy  ;  nor, 
peradventure,  will  you  live  henceforward  Mdth  more  moderate 
desires,  or  under  greater  freedom  from  uneasiness  and  vexation 
of  spirit." 

3.  "  Be  that  as  it  may,"  the  man  rejoins,  "I  excel  all  the  other 
Greeks  in  the  swiftness  of  my  feet." — "But,"  said  Diogenes, 
"  you  are  not  swifter  than  the  hares,  nor  the  stags;  and  yet  these 
creatures,  though  the  swiftest  of  all  others,  are  at  the  same  time 
the  most  timorous,  afraid  both  of  men,  anch  birds  of  prey,  and 
of  dogs  ;  so  as  to  lead  a  life  of  uninterrupted  misery. 

4.  "  Indeed  you  must  be  aware,  are  you  not,  tliat  speed  is 
in  reality  a  symptom  of  timidity  ?  for  the  most  timid  animals 
are  also  invariably  the  swiftest.  In  conformity  with  this  dis- 
pensation of  nature,  Hercules  was  slower  of  foot  than  most 
men  ;  and,  from  his  consequent  inability  of  laying  hold  on  his 
antagonists  by  speed,  was  accustomed  to  carry  a  bow  and 
arrows,  and  thus  arrest  a  flying  adversary  with  his  weapons." 

5.  "  Yes,"  said  the  man  :  "  but  the  poet  tells  us,  how  Achil- 
le8,t  the  swift-footed,  was  a  \varrior  likewise  of  incomparable 
fortitude."  "  And  whence,"  replied  Diogenes,  "  can  we  infer 
the  celerity  of  Acliilles?  for  we  find  him  incapable  of  overtaking 
Hector,!  after  a  pursuit  of  an  entire  day.  However,  are  you 
not  ashamed  of  priding  yourself  on  that  property,  in  which  you 
must  acknowledge  your  inferiority  to  the  meanest  animals?  Nay^ 
I  suppose,  that  you  would  not  be  able  to  outstrip  even  di  fox  in 
speed.  But,  after  all,  at  what  a  distance  did  you  leave  your 
competitors  behind  ?" 

6.  "  A  very  small  distance,  Diogenes !  and  this  very  circum- 
stance makes  my  victory  so  admirably  glorious."    "  It  seems, 

•  Fillet,  a  band  to  tie  up  the  hair. 

t  The  bravest  of  the  Greeks  in  the  Trojan  war. 

"  The  son  of  Priam,  king  of  Troy,  and  a  valiant  hero. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  ^7 

then,"  said  Diog'enes,  "'that  your  triumph  and  felicity  depended 
on  a  single  step." — "No  wonder:  we  were  all  the  fleetest  run- 
ners imaginable." — "By  how  great  an  interval  do  you  think  a 
lark  would  have  gone  over  the  Stadium  before  you  all  ?"  "  But 
they  have  wings,  and  fly."  "Well !"  replies  Diogenes  :  "if 
swiftness  then  be  a  proof  of  excellence,  it  were  better  to  be  a 
lark  than  a  man  :  so  that  our  commiseration  for  larks  and  lap- 
wings, because  they  were  metamorphosed*  from  men  into  birds, 
as  mythologists  inform  us,  is  unseasonable  and  unnecessary." 

7.  "  But  I,"  said  the  victorious  racer, "  who  am  a  man  myself, 
am  the  swiftest  of  mankind."  "Yes  !"  replied  Diogenes  :  "and 
is  it  not  probable,  that  among  ants,  also,  one  is  swifter  than 
another?  Yet  are  the  ants  objects  of  admiration  to  their  fellows 
on  that  account  ?  Or  would  you  not  think  it  a  laughable  absurd- 
ity in  any  man  to  admire  an  ant  for  his  speed  ?  Suppose  again, 
that  all  your  competitors  had  been  lame,  would  you  have  prided 
yourself,  as  on  some  masterly  achievement,  for  outstripping  the 
lame,  when  you  were  not  lame  like  the  rest  ?" 

8.  By  such  conversation  as  this,  he  produced  in  many  of  his 
hearers  a  supreme  contempt  for  the  boasted  accomplishment  in 
question  :  and  the  man  too  departed,  under  no  little  mortifica- 
tion and  humiliation,  from  this  interview  with  Diogenes.  Nor 
was  the  philosopher  of  little  service  to  society  in  this  respect, 
by  reducing  to  a  smaller  compass  and  assuaging  the  tumors  of 
a  senseless  infatuation,  as  swellings  on  the  body  subside  from 
scarification  and  puncture,  whenever  he  saw  any  man  inflated 
with  a  frivolous  conceit  of  unsubstantial  excellence,  and  carried 
beyond  the  limits  of  sober  sentiment  by  qualities  utterly  desti- 
tute of  intrinsic  worth. 


LESSON  CXXL 

Diversity  in  the  Human  Character. — Pope. 

\.  Virtuous  and  vicious  every  man  must  be, 
Few  in  th'  extreme,  but  all  in  the  degree ; 
The  rogue  and  fool,  by  fits  are  fair  and  wise, 
And  e'en  the  best,  by  fits  what  they  despise. 
*Tis  but  by  part  we  follow  good  or  ill, 
For,  Vice  or  Virtue,  Self  directs  it  still ; 
Each  individual  seeks  a  sev'ral  goal  ;* 
But  Heaven's  great  view  is  one, — and  that  the  whole. 

•  Pronounced  Met-a-mor-fus'd,  changed. 

t  Goal,  the  end  which  a  person  aims  to  reach  or  accomplish. 


248  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

2.  That  counterworks  each  folly  and  caprice  ; 
That  disappoints  th'  effect  of  ev'ry  vice  ; 

That  happy  frailties  to  all  ranks  apply'd — 
Shame  to  the  virgin,  to  the  matron  pride, 
Fear  to  the  statesman,  rashness  to  the  chief, 
To  kings  presumption,  and  to  crowds  belief. 
That  Virtue's  end  from  vanity  can  raise, 
Which  seeks  no  interest,  no  reward  but  praise ; 
And  builds  on  wants,  and  on  defects  of  mind, 
_  The  joy,  the  peace,  the  glory  of  mankind. 

3.  Heaven,  forming  each  on  other  to  depend, 
A  master,  or  a  servant,  or  a  friend. 

Bids  each  on  other  for  assistance  call, 

Till  one  man's  weakness  grows  the  strength  of  all. 

Wants,  frailties,  passions,  closer  still  ally 

The  common  int'rest,  or  endear  the  tie. 

To  those  we  owe  true  friendship,  love  sincere. 

Each  homefelt  joy  that  life  inliorits  here  ; 

Yet  from  the  same,  we  learn,  in  its  decline. 

Those  joys,  those  loves,  those  int'rests  to  resign. 

Taught,  half  by  reason,  half  by  mere  decay. 

To  welcome  death,  and  calmly  pass  away. 

4.  What'er  the  passion,  knowledge,  fame  or  pelf, 
Not  one  would  change  his  neighbor  with  himself. 
The  learn'd  is  ha])py,  nature  to  explore. 

The  fool  is  happy  that  he  knows  no  more ; 

The  rich  is  happy  in  the  plenty  given. 

The  poor  contents  him  with  the  care  of  heaven : 

See  the  blind  beggar  dance,  the  cripple  sing. 

The  sot  a  hero,  lunatic  a  king; 

The  starvino-  cliimistin  his  golden  views 

Supremely  blest,  the  poet  in  his  muse. 

5.  See  some  strange  comfort  ev'ry  state  attend, 
And  pride,  bestow'd  on  all,  a  common  friend ; 
See  some  fit  passion  ev'ry  age  supply, 

Hope  travels  through,  nor  quits  us  when  we  die. 

6.  Behold  the  child,  by  nature's  kindly  law, 
Pleas'd  with  a  rattle,  tickled  witli  a  straw: 
Some  livelier  playthinsr  gives  liis  youth  delight, 
A  little  louder,  but  as  empty  quite ; 

Scarfs,  garters,  gold,  amuse  his  riper  stage. 
And  cards  and  counters  are  the  toys  of  age: 
Pleas'd  with  this  bauble  still,  as  that  before ; 
Till  ttr'd  he  sleeps,  and  life's  poor  play  is  o'er. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  dl9 

7.  Meanwhile  opinion  gilds,  with  varying  rays. 
Those  painted  clouds  that  beautify  our  days  ; 
Each  want  of  happiness  by  hope  supply'd, 
And  each  vacuity  of  sense  by  pride. 
These  build  as  fast  as  knowledge  can  destroy  : 
In  folly's  cup  still  laughs  the  bubble,  joy  : 
One  prospect  lost,  another  still  we  gain, 
And  not  a  vanity  is  given  in  vain  : 
E'en  mean  self-love  becomes,  by  force  divine, 
The  scale  to  measure  others'  wants  by  thine. 
See  !  and  confess,  one  comfort  still  must  rise ; 
*Ti3  this :  Though  man's  a  fool,  yet  God  is  wise. 


LESSON  CXXIL 

On  the  Pursuits  of  Mankind. — Pope. 

1.  Honor  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise  ; 
Act  w^ell  your  part — there  all  the  honor  lies. 
Fortune  in  men  has  some  small  difference  made ; 
One  flaunts  in  rags — one  flutters  in  brocade  ;* 
The  cobbler  apron'd,  and  the  parson  gown'd  ; 
The  friar  hooded,  and  the  monarch  crown'd. 

"  What  differ  more,"  you  cry,  "  than  crown  and  cowl  Tf" 
I  tell  you  friend — a  wise  man  and  a  fool. 
You'll  find,  if  once  the  monarch  acts  the  monk, 
Or,  cobbler  like,  the  parson  will  be  drunk : 
Worth  makes  the  man,  and  want  of  it  the  fellow  : 
The  rest  is  all  but  leather  or  prunella. 

2.  Boast  the  pure  blood  of  an  illustrious  race. 
In  quiet  flow  from  Lucrece  to  Lucrece  : 

But  by  your  father's  worth  if  your's  you  rate, 

Count  me  those  only  who  were  good  and  great. 

Go  !  if  your  ancient,  but  ignoble  blood, 

Has  crept  through  scoundrels  ever  since  the  flood  : 

Go  !  and  pretend  your  family  is  young, 

Nor  own  your  fathers  have  been  fools  so  long. 

What  can  ennoble  sots,  or  slaves,  or  cowards ; 

Alas  !  not  all  the  blood  of  all  the  Howards. 

3.  Look  next  on  greatness — say  where  greatness  Kea  t 
"  Where,  but  among  the  heroes  and  the  wise  ?" 


♦  Brocade,  a  silk  stuff  variegated  with  gold  and  silver. 
^  Cowl,  a  hood  worn  by  a  monk. 


260  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Heroes  are  much  the  same,  the  point's  agreed, 

From  Macedonia's  madman*  to  the  Swede  :t 

The  whole  strange  purpose  of  their  Hves,  to  find, 

Or  make  an  enemy  of  all  mankind  ! 

Not  one  looks  backward  ;  onward  still  he  goes ; 

Yet  ne'er  looks  forward,  farther  than  his  nose. 

No  less  alike  the  politic  and  wise  ; 

All  sly  slow  things  with  circmnspective  eyes. 

Men  in  their  loose,  unguarded  liours  they  take, 

Not  that  themselves  are  wise,  but  others  weak. 

4.  But  grant  that  those  can  conquer ;  these  can  cheat ; 
'Tis  phrase  absurd  to  call  a  villain  great. 

Who  wickedly  is  wise,  or  madly  brave, 

Is  but  the  more  a  fool,  the  more  a  knave. 

Who  noble  ends  by  noble  means  obtains,  ^ 

Or  failing,  smiles  in  exile  or  in  chains ;  ^-. 

Like  good  Aurelius^  let  him  reign,  or  bleed  \: 

Like  Socrates — that  man  is  great  indeed.  | 

5.  What's  fame  ?  a  fanci'd  life  in  other's  breath, 
A  thing  beyond  us,  e'en  before  our  death. 

All  fame  is  foreign,  but  of  true  desert. 

Plays  round  the  head,  but  comes  not  to  the  heart ; 

One  self-approving  hour  whole  years  outweighs 

Of  stupid  starers,  and  of  loud  huzzas  : 

And  more  true  joy,  Marcellus||  exil'd,  feels. 

Than  Cesar,  with  a  Senate  at  his  heels. 

6.  In  parts  superior  what  advantage  lies? 
Tell,  (for  you  can,)  what  is  it  to  be  wise  ? 
'Tis  but  to  know  how  little  can  be  known  ; 
To  see  all  otliers'  faults,  and  feel  our  own ; 
Condemn'd  in  business  or  in  arts  to  drudge, 
Without  a  second  or  without  a  judge. 

Truths  would  you  teach,  to  save  a  sinking  land  T 
All  fear,  none  aid  you,  and  few  understand. 
Painful  pre-eminence  !  yourself  to  view 
Above  life's  weakness,  and  its  comforts  too. 

7.  Bring  then  these  blessings  to  a  strict  account ; 
Make  fair  deductions,  see  to  what  they  'mount ; 


*  Alexander  the  Great. 

t  Charles  Xil.  king  of  Sweden,  bom  A.  D.  1683.  His  whole  rei^n  wa» 
one  continued  scene  of  warfare.  He  was  killed  at  the  siege  of  Fredericks- 
hall,  in  Norway,  December,  1718. 

t  A  Roman  emperor  in  A.  D.  161. 

IJ  Marcellus,  an  eminent  Roman,  banished  by  Juliua  Ceear  to  Aaa,  and 
recalled  by  Augustus  Cesar, 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  251 

How  much,  of  other,  each  is  sure  to  cost ; 
How  each,  for  other,  oft  is  wholly  lost ; 
How  inconsistent  greater  goods  with  these; 
How  sometimes  life  is  risk'd,  and  always  ease : 
Think.     And  if  still  such  things  thy  envy  call, 
Say,  would'st  thou  be  the  man  to  whom  they  fall? 

8.  To  sigh  for  ribands  if  thou  art  so  silly, 
Mark  how  they  grace  Lord  Umbra,  or  Sir  Billy. 
Is  yellow  dirt  the  passion  of  thy  life  ? 
Look  but  on  Gripus,  or  on  Gripus'  wife. 
If  parts  allure  thee,  think  how  Bacon*  shin'd  ; 
The  wisest,  brightest,  meanest  of  mankind. 
Or,  ravdsh'd  Avith  the  whistling  of  a  name, 
See  Cromwellt  damn'd  to  everlasting  fame. 
If  all,  united,  thy  ambition  call. 
From  ancient  story,  learn  to  scorn  them  all. 


LESSON  CXXIII. 

The  Road  to  Happiness  open  to  all  Men. — Pope. 

1.  Oh  Happiness !  our  being's  end  and  aim  ! 
Good,  pleasure,  ease,  content !  Whate'er  thy  name ; 
That  something  still  which  prompts  th'  eternal  sigh, 
For  which  we  bear  to  live,  or  dare  to  die  : 

Which  still  so  near  us,  yet  beyond  us  lies, 
O'erlook'd,  seen  double,  by  the  fool  and  wise ; 
Plant  of  celestial  seed,  if  dropt  below. 
Say,  in  what  mortal  soil  thou  deign'st  to  grow  ? 

2.  Fair  op'ning  to  some  court's  propitious  shine, 
Or  deep  with  diamonds  in  the  flaming  mine  ? 
Twin'd  with  the  wreaths  Parnassian  laurel  yield, 
Or  reap'd  in  iron  harvests  of  the  field  ? 

Where  grows  ?  where  grows  it  not  ?  if  vain  our  toil, 
We  ought  to  blame  the  culture,  not  the  soil. 

*  Francis  Bacon,  an  English  philosopher  and  statesman,  was  lx)m  1561, 
and  died  1626.  He  was  one  of  the  greatest  geniuses  that  any  age  or  country 
has  produced.  He  laid  down  those  principles  upon  which  Newton  demon- 
strated the  whole  law  of  nature.  He  was  chosen  lord  high  chancellor  of 
England,  but  was  legally  convicted  of  bribery  and  corruption,  and  accused 
of  the  most  gross  and  profligate  flattery.  He  spent  the  last  years  of  his  life 
in  study  and  retirement. 

t  Oliver  Cromwell,  a  celebrated  English  general,  was  born  1599.  He 
assumed  the  title  of  "  Protector  of  the  commonwealth  of  England,"  1653. 
He  administered  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom,  for  five  years,  wim  great  vigor 
and  ability,  and  died  165S. 


252  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Fix'd  to  no  spot  is  happiness  sincere ; 

*Tis  no  where  to  be  found,  or  ev'ry  where ; 

*Tis  never  to  be  bought,  but  always  free  ; 

And,  fled  from  monarchs,  Saint  John  !*  dwells  with  thee. 

3.  Ask  of  the  learn'd  the  way  ?  The  learn'd  are  blind  ; 
This  bids  to  serve.)  and  that  to  shun  mankind ; 

Some  place  the  bliss  in  action,  some  in  ease  ; 
Those  call  it  pleasure,  and  contentment  these ; 
Some  sunk  to  beasts,  find  pleasure  end  in  pain ; 
Some  swell'd  to  gods,  confess  e'en  virtue  vain ; 
Or  indolent,  to  each  extreme  they  fall. 
To  trust  in  every  thing,  or  doubt  of  all. 

4.  Who  thus  define  it,  say  they  more  or  less 
Tlian  this, — that  happiness  is  happiness  ? 
Take  nature's  path,  and  mad  opinions  leave  ; 
All  states  can  reach  it,  and  all  heads  conceive : 
Obvious  her  goods,  in  no  extreme  they  dwell ; 
There  needs  but  thinking  right,  and  meaning  well ; 
And  mourn  our  various  portions  as  we  please, 
Equal  is  common  sense,  and  common  ease. 
Remember,  man,  "  the  universal  cause 

Acts  not  by  partial,  but  by  gen'ral  laws ;" 
And  makes  what  happiness  we  justly  call, 
Subsist  not  in  the  good  of  one,  but  all. 


LESSON  CXXIV. 

Promdence  Vindicated  in  the  Present  State  of  Man. — Pope. 

L  Heav'n  from  all  creatures  hides  the  book  of  fate, 
All  but  the  page  prescrib'd,  their  present  state  ; 
From  brutes  what  men,  from  men  what  spirits  know ; 
Or  who  could  suffer  being  here  below  ? 
— The  lamb  thy  riot  dooms  to-day, 
Had  he  thy  reason,  would  he  skip  and  play? 
Pleas'd  to  the  last,  he  crops  the  flow'ry  food, 
And  licks  the  hand  just  rais'd  to  shed  his  blood. 

•  Henry  Saint  John,  Lord  Viscount  Bolingbroke,  a  great  politician  aiid 
philosopher,  was  born,  1672.  at  Battersea,  four  miles  west  of  London.  Aa  a 
writer,  Lord  Bolingbroke  was  nervous,  elegant,  and  argumentative,  but  in 
his  writings  he  is  too  often  sceptical,  and  disregards  the  great  truths  of  reve- 
lation and  of  Christianity.  He  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Pope,  an<i  it  waj 
by  his  persuasion  that  the  Essay  on  Man  was  begun  and  finished.  He  died 
lit  Battersea,  1751. 


TsATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  253 

2.  Oh  blindness  to  the  future  !  kindly  giv'n, 
That  each  may  fill  the  circle  mark'd  by  Heav'n ; 
Who  sees  with  equal  eye,  as  God  of  all, 

A  hero  perish,  or  a  sparrow  fall ; 

Atoms  or  systems  into  ruin  hurl'd. 

And  now  a  bubble  burst,  and  now  a  world. 

3.  Hope  humbly  then,  Avith  trembling  pinions  soar ; 
Wait  the  great  teacher  death ;  and  God  adore. 
What  future  bliss  he  gives  not  thee  to  know. 

But  gives  that  hope  to  be  thy  blessing  now. 
Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast : 
Man  never  is,  but  always  to  be  blest. 
The  soul,  uneasy,  and  confin'd  from  home, 
Rests  and  expatiates  in  a  life  to  come. 

4.  Lo,  the  poor  Indian  !  whose  untutor'd  mind 
Sees  God  in  clouds,  or  hears  him  in  the  wind ; 
His  soul  proud  science  never  taught  to  stray 
Far  as  the  Solar  Walk  or  Milky  Way ; 

Yet  simple  nature  to  his  hope  has  giv'n. 
Behind  the  cloud-topt  hill,  a  humbler  heav'n ; 
Some  safer  world  in  depth  of  woods  embrac'd, 
Some  happier  island  in  the  wat'ry  waste ; 
Where  slaves  once  more  their  native  land  behold, 
No  fiends  torment,  no  Christians  thirst  for  gold. 

5.  To  5e,  contents  his  natural  desire ; 
He  asks  no  angel's  wing,  no  seraph's  fire ; 
But  thinks,  admitted  to  that  equal  sky, 
His  faithful  dog  shall  bear  him  company. 

— Go,  wiser  thou  !  and  in  thy  scale  of  sense, 
Weigh  thy  opinion  against  Providence  ; 
Call  imperfection  what  thou  fanciest  such ; 
Say  here  he  gives  too  little,  there  too  much — 

6.  In  pride,  in  reas'ning  pride,  our  error  lies ; 
All  quit  their  sphere,  and  rush  into  the  skies. 
Pride  still  is  aiming  at  the  blest  abodes  ; 

Men  would  be  angels,  angels  would  be  gods. 
Aspiring  to  be  gods,  if  angels  fell. 
Aspiring  to  be  angels,  men  rebel : 
And  who  but  wishes  to  invert  the  laws 
Of  ORDER,  sins  against  th'  eternal  cause. 
22 


254  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  CXXV. 

The  Nature  of  True  Eloquence. — D.  Webster. 

\.  When  public  bodies  are  to  be  addressed  on  momentous 
occasions,  when  great  interests  are  at  stake,  and  strong  passions 
excited,  nothing  is  valuable  in  speech,  farther  than  it  is  con- 
nected with  high  intellectual  and  moral  endowments.  Clear- 
ness, force,  and  earnestness,  are  the  qualities  which  produce 
conv-iction. 

2.  True  eloquence,  indeed,  does  not  consist  in  speech.  It 
cannot  be  brought  from  far.  Labor  and  learning  may  toil  for 
it,  but  they  will  toil  in  vain.  Words  and  phrases  may  be  mar- 
shalled in  every  way,  but  they  cannot  compass  it.  It  must  exist 
in  the  man, — in  the  subject, — and  in  the  occasion. 

3.  Affected  passion,  intense  expression,  the  pomp  of  decla- 
mation, all  may  aspire  after  it;  they  cannot  reach  it.  It  comes, 
if  it  come  at  all,  like  the  outbreaking  of  a  fountain  from  the  earth, 
or  the  bursting  forth  of  volcanic  fires,  with  spontaneous,  origi- 
nal, native  force. 

4.  The  graces  taught  in  the  schools,  the  costly  ornaments  and 
studied  contrivances  of  speech,  shock  and  disgust  men,  when 
their  own  lives,  and  the  fate  of  their  wives,  their  children,  and 
their  country,  hang  on  the  decision  of  the  hour. 

5.  Then,  words  have  lost  their  power,  rhetoric  is  vain,  and 
all  elaborate  oratory  contemptible.  Even  genius  itself  then 
feels  rebuked  and  subdued,  as  in  the  presence  of  higher  quali- 
ties. Then,  patriotism  is  eloquent ;  then,  self-devotion  is 
eloquent. 

6.  The  clear  conception,  out-running  the  deductions  of  logic, 
the  high  purpose,  the  firm  resolve,the  dauntless  spirit,  speaking 
on  the  tongue,  beaming  from  the  eye,  informing  every  feature, 
and  urging  the  whole  man  onward,  right  onward,  to  his  object 
— this,  this  is  eloquence;  or,  rather,  it  is  something  greater  and 
higher  than  all  eloquence, — it  is  action,  noble,  sublime,  godlike 
action. 


LESSON   CXXVL 

The  Perfect  Orator. — Sheridan. 

1.  Imagine  to  yourselves  a  Demosthenes,*  addressing  the 
most  illustrious  assembly  in  the  world,  upon  a  point  whereon 

♦  Pronounced  De-mos'-the-nees,  the  famous   Grecian  orator.     He  was 
bom  at  Athens,  381  B.  C.     Though  neglected  by  his  guardians,  and  imped- 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  255 

the  fate  of  the  most  illustrious  of  nations  depended — How  awful 
such  a  meeting !  iiow  vast  the  subject ! — Is  man  possessed  of 
t*ilents  adequate  to  the  great  occasion  ? — Adequate  !  Yes,  su- 
perior. 

2.  By  the  power  of  his  eloquence,  the  augustness  of  the 
assembly  is  lost  in  the  dignity  of  the  orator:  and  the  importance 
of  the  subject,  for  a  while,  superseded  by  the  admiration  of  his 
talents. 

3.  With  what  strength  of  argument,  with  what  powers  of  the 
fancy,  with  what  emotions  of  the  heart,  does  he  assault  and  sub- 
jugate the  whole  man  ;  and,  at  once,  captivate  his  reason,  his 

imagination,  and  his  passions  ! To  effect  this,  must  be  the 

utmost  effort  of  the  most  improved  state  of  human  nature. 

4.  Not  a  faculty  that  he  possesses,  is  here  unemployed ;  not 
a  faculty  that  he  possesses,  but  is  here  exerted  to  its  highest 
pitch.  All  his  internal  powers  are  at  work ;  all  his  external, 
testify  their  energies. 

5.  Within,  the  memory,  the  fancy,  the  judgment,  the  pas- 
sions, are  all  busy:  without,  every  muscle,  every  nerve  is  exert- 
ed ;  not  a  feature,  not  a  limb,  but  speaks.  The  organs  of  the 
body,  attuned  to  the  exertions  of  the  mind,  through  the  kindred 
organs  of  the  hearers,  instantaneously  vibrate  those  energies 
froir  soul  to  soul. 

6.  ^Notwithstanding  the  diversity  of  minds  in  such  a  multi- 
tude ;  by  the  lightning  of  eloquence,  they  are  melted  into  one 
mass — the  whole  assembly,  actuated  in  one  and  the  same  way, 
become,  as  it  were,  but  one  man,  and  have  but  one  voice — The 
universal  cry  is — Let  us  march  against  Philip,* — let  ua 

FIGHT  FOR  OUR  LIBERTIES LET  US  CONQUER,  OR  DIE  I 


LESSON  CXXVII. 

Rolla^s  Address  to  the  Peruvians. — Sheridan. 

1.  My  brave  associates,  partners  of  my  toil,  my  feelings,  and 
my  fame  !  Can  Rolla's  words  add  vigfor  to  the  virtuous  energies 

ed  in  his  education  by  weakness  of  lungs  and  an  inarticulate  pronunciation, — 
his  assiduity  overcame  all  obstacles,  and  enabled  him  to  become  the  most 
illustrious  and  eloquent  orator  of  antiquit3^  The  abilities  of  Demosthenes 
raised  him  to  the  head  of  the  government  in  Athens.  He  roused  his  coun- 
trymen from  their  indolence,  and  incited  them  to  oppose  the  encroachments 
of  Philip,  kincr  of  Macedon.  and  his  son,  Alexander  the  Great.  Antipater, 
the  successor  of  Alexander,  demanded  all  the  Athenian  orators  to  be  deliv- 
ered up  to  him, — and  Demosthenes,  seeing  no  hope  of  safety,  destroyed 
himself  by  poison,  B.  C,  322. 

*  Philip,  king  of  Macedon,  father  of  Alexander  the  Great 


256  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

which  inspire  your  hearts  ?  No — you  have  judged  as  /  have, 
the  foulness  of  the  crafty  plea  by  which  these  bold  invaders 
would  delude  you. — Your  generous  spirit  has  compared,  as 
mine  has,  the  motives,  which  in  a  war  like  this,  can  animate 
their  minds,  and  ours. 

2.  TAey,  by  a  strange  frenzy  driven,  fight  for  power,  for 
plunder <f  and  extended  rule — we,  for  our  country,  our  altars, 
and  our  homes. —  They  follow  an  adventurer  whom  they /ear, 
and  obey  a  power  which  they  hate — we  serve  a  monarch  whom 
we  love — a  God  whom  we  adore. 

3.  Whenever  they  move  in  anger,  desolation  tracks  their 
progress  !  Whenever  they  pause  in  amity,  affliction  mourns 
their  friendship  !  They  boast  they  come  but  to  improve  our 
state,  enlarge  our  thoughts,  and  free  us  from  the  yoke  of  error! 
Yes — they  will  give  enlightened  freedom  to  our  minds,  who  are 
themselves  the  slaves  of  passion,  avarice,  and  pride. 

4.  They  offer  us  their  protection — Yes,  such  protection  as 
vultures  give  to  lanibs — covering  and  devouring  them  !  They 
call  on  us  to  barter  all  of  good  we  have  inherited  and  proved 
for  the  desperate  chance  of  something  better,  which  they  pro- 
mise. Be  our  plain  answer  this  : — 

5.  The  throne  we  honor,  is  the  people^s  choice — the  laws  we 
reverence  are  our  brave  father's  legacy — the  faith  we  follow 
teaches  us  to  live  in  bonds  of  charity  with  all  mankind,  and  die 
in  hopes  of  bliss  beyond  the  grave.  Tell  your  invaders  this ; 
and  tell  them  too,  we  seek  no  change  ;  and  least  of  all,  such 
change  as  they  would  bring  us. 


LESSON  CXXVIIL 

The  Hermit. — Beattie. 

1.  At  the  close  of  the  day,  when  the  hamlet  is  still, 

And  mortals  the  sweets  of  forgetful ness  prove  ; 
When  nought  but  the  torrent  is  heard  on  the  hill, 

And  nought  but  the  nightingale's  song  in  the  grove ; 
'Twas  thus  by  the  cave  of  the  mountain  afar. 

While  his  harp  rung  symphonious,  a  hermit*  began 
No  more  with  himself  or  with  nature  at  war, 

He  thought  as  a  sage,  though  he  felt  as  a  man. 

*  Hermit,  a  person  who  retires  from  society  and  lives  in  solitude. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  257 

2.  "  Ah  !  why,  all  abandon'd  to  darkness  and  wo  ; 

Why  lone  Philomela,*  that  languishing  fall  ? 
For  spring  shall  return,  and  a  lover  bestow, 

And  sorrow  no  longer  thy  bosom  enthral. 
But  if  pity  inspire  thee,  renew  the  sad  lay. 

Mourn,  sweetest  complainer,  man  calls'" thee  to  mourn; 
O  soothe  him  whose  pleasures  like  thine  pass  away ; 

Full  quickly  they  pass— but  they  never  return. 

3.  "Now  gliding  remote,  on  the  verge  of  the  sky, 

The  moon  half  extinguish'd  her  crescent  displays  : 
But  lately  I  mark'd,  when  majestic  on  high 

She  shone,  and  the  planets  were  lost  in  her  blaze. 
Roll  on,  thou  fair  orb,  and  -with  gladness  pursue 

The  path  that  conducts  thee  to  splendor  again  : 
But  man's  faded  glory  what  change  shall  renew ! 

Ah  fool !  to  exult  in  a  glory  so  vain  ! 

4.  "  'Tis  night,  and  the  landscape  is  lovely  no  more  : 

I  mourn,  but  ye  woodlands,  1  mourn  not  for  you ; 
For  morn  is  approaching,  your  charms  to  restore, 

Perfum'd  with  fresh  fragrance,  and  glitt'ring  with  dew. 
Nor  yet  for  the  ravage  of  winter  I  mourn  ; 

Kind  nature  the  embryo  blossom  will  save : 
But  wlien  shall  spring  visit  the  mouldering  urn ! 

O  when  shall  day  dawn  on  the  night  of  the  grave  ! 

5.  "  'Twas  thus  by  the  glare  of  false  science  betray'd, 

That  leads  to  bewilder  ;  and  dazzles  to  blind  ; 
My  thoughts  wont  to  roam,  from  shade  onward  to  shade, 

Destruction  before  me,  and  sorrow  behind. 
O  pity,  Great  Father  of  light,  then  I  cry'd. 

Thy  creature,  who  fain  would  not  wander  from  thee ! 
Lo  !  humbled  in  dust,  I  relinquisli  my  pride  : 

From  doubt  and  from  darkness  thou  only  canst  free. 

6.  "  And  darkness  and  doubt  are  now  flying  away ; 

No  longer  I  roam  in  conjecture  forlorn ; 
So  breaks  on  the  traveller,  faint  and  astray, 

The  bright  and  the  balmy  efiulgence  of  morn. 
See  truth,  love,  and  mercy,  in  triumph  descending, 

And  nature  all  glowing  in  Eden's  first  bloom  ! 
On  the  cold  cheek  of  death  smiles  and  roses  are  blending, 

And  beauty  immortal  awakes  from  the  tomb." 

*  Phi-lo-me'-lii,  a  niglitingale. 
22* 


258  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  CXXIX. 

Tke  Mariner^ s  Dream. — Dimond. 

1.  In  slumbers  of  midnight  the  sailor  boy  lay, 

His  hammoc*  swung  loose  at  the  sport  of  the  wind ; 
But,  watch-worn  and  weary,  his  cares  flew  away, 
And  visions  of  happiness  danced  o'er  his  mind. 

2.  He  dreamed  of  his  home,  of  his  dear  native  bowers, 

And  pleasures  that  waited  on  life's  merry  morn ; 
While  memory  each  scene  gayly  covered  with  flowers. 
And  restored  every  rose,  but  secreted  its  thorn. 

3.  Then  fancy  her  magical  pinions  spread  wide, 

And  bade  the  young  dreamer  in  ecstacy  rise  ; — 
Now  far,  far  behind  him,  the  green  waters  glide. 
And  the  cot  of  his  forefathers  blesses  his  eyes. 

4.  The  jessamin!  clambers  in  flowers  o'er  the  thatch. 

And  the  swallow  chirps  sweet  from  her  nest  in  the  wall; 
All  trembling  with  transport,  he  raises  the  latch. 
And  the  voices  of  loved  ones  reply  to  his  call. 

5.  A  father  bends  o'er  him  with  looks  of  delight  ; 

His  cheek  is  impearled  witli  a  mother's  warm  tear  ; 
And  the  lips  of  the  l)oy  in  a  love-kiss  unite 

With  the  lips  of  the  maid,  whom  his  bosom  holds  dear. 

6.  The  heart  of  the  sleeper  beats  high  in  his  breast, 

Joy  quickens  his  pulses,  his  hardships  seem  o'er : 
And  a  murmur  of  happiness  steals  through  his  rest — 
"  O  God  !  thou  hast  blessed  me  ;  I  ask  for  no  more." 

7.  Ah  !  whence  is  that  flame  which  now  bursts  on  his  eye  ? 

Ah  !  what  is  that  sound  which  now  larums  his  ear  ? 
'Tis  the  lightning's  red  glare,  painting  hell  on  the  sky  ! 
'Tis  the  crushing  of  thunders,  the  groan  of  the  sphere! 

8.  He  springs  from  his  hammoc — he  flies  to  the  deck — 

Amazement  confronts  him  with  images  dire — 
Wild  winds  and  mad  waves  drive  tlie  vessel  awreck — 
The  masts  fly  in  splinters — the  shrouds  are  on  fire  ! 

9.  Like  mountains  the  billows  tremendously  swell : 

In  vain  the  lost  wretch  calls  on  mercy  to  save ; 

*  Hammoc,  a  kind  of  hani^ing  bed,  sus{>ended  by  hooks,  on  board  ships, 
t  Jessamin,  a  plant  bearing  beautiful  flowers. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  259 

Unseen  hands  of  spirits  are  ringing  his  knell, 
And  the  death-angel  flaps  his  broad  wing  o'er  the  wave ! 

10.  O  sailor  boy  !  wo  to  thy  dream  of  delight ! 

In  darkness  dissolves  the  gay  frost-work  of  bliss. 
Where  now  is  the  picture  that  fancy  touched  bright, 
Thy  parents'  fond  pressure  and  love's  honied  kiss. 

11.  O  sailor  boy  !  sailor  boy  !  never  again 

Shall  home,  love,  or  kindred,  thy  wishes  repay ; 
Unblessed,  and  unhonored,  down  deep  in  the  main 
Full  many  a  score  fathom,  thy  frame  shall  decay. 

12.  No  tomb  shall  e'er  plead  to  remembrance  for  thee, 

Or  redeem  form  or  fame  from  the  merciless  surge ; 
But  the  white  foam  of  waves  shall  thy  winding-sheet  be, 
And  winds,  in  the  midnight  of  winter,  thy  dirge  ! 

13.  On  a  bed  of  green  sea-flower  thy  limbs  shall  be  laid  ; 

Around  thy  white  bones  the  red  coral  shall  grow ; 
.     Of  thy  fair  yellow  locks  threads  of  amber  be  made, 
And  every  part  suit  to  thy  mansion  below. 

14.  Days,  months,  years,  and  ages,  shall  circle  away. 

And  still  the  vast  waters  above  thee  shall  roll ; 
Earth  loses  thy  pattern  for  ever  and  aye  : —  J 

O  sailor  boy  !  sailor  boy  !  peace  to  thy  soul ! 


LESSON  CXXX. 

Verses  supposed  to  be  xoritten  hy  Alexander  Selkirk,  during  his 
solitary  abode  in  the  Island  of  Juan  Fernandez* — Cowper. 

1.  I  AM  monarch  of  all  I  survey. 

My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute ; 
From  the  centre,  all  round  to  the  sea, 

I  am  lord  of  the  fowl  and  the  brute. 
O  solitude  !  where  are  the  charms, 

That  sages  have  seen  in  thy  face  ? 
Better  dwell  in  the  midst  of  alarms. 

Than  reign  in  this  horrible  place. 

*  The  island  of  Juan  Fernandez  lies  to  the  west  of  South  America,  about 
three  hundred  miles  from  the  coast  of  Chili.  Alexander  Selkirk,  a  seaman, 
a  native  of  Scotland,  was  put  ashore  by  his  captain,  and  left  in  this  solitary 
place,  where  he  lived  several  years.  This  gave  rise  to  the  celebrated  ro- 
mance of  Robinson  Crusoe. 


260  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

2.  I  am  out  of  humanity's  reach, 

I  must  finish  my  journey  alone  ; 
Never  hear  the  sweet  music  of  speech ; 

I  start  at  the  sound  of  my  own. 
The  beasts  that  roam  over  the  plain, 

My  form  with  indifference  see  : 
They  are  so  unacquainted  with  man, 

Their  lameness  is  shocking  to  me. 

3.  Society,  friendship,  and  love, 

Divinely  bestowed  upon  man, 
Oh  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove, 

How  soon  would  I  taste  you  again  ! 
My  sorrows  I  then  might  assuage 

in  the  ways  of  religion  and  truth ; 
Might  learn  from  the  wisdom  of  age, 

And  be  cheer'd  by  the  sallies  of  youth. 

4.  Religion  !  what  treasure  untold 

Resides  in  that  heavenly  word  ! 
More  precious  than  silver  or  gold. 

Or  all  that  this  earth  can  afford. 
But  the  sound  of  the  church-going  bell 

These  valleys  and  rocks  never  heard ; 
Ne'er  sigh'd  at  the  sound  of  a  knell, 

Or  smiled  when  a  sabbath  appear'd. 

5.  Ye  winds  that  have  made  me  your  sport, 

Convey  to  this  desolate  shore, 
Some  cordial  endearing  report 

Of  a  land  I  shall  visit  no  more. 
My  friends,  do  they  now  and  then  send 

A  wish  or  a  thouoht  after  me  ? 
O  tell  me  I  yet  have  a  friend. 

Though  a  friend  I  am  never  to  see. 

6.  How  fleet  is  a  glance  of  the  mind  ! 

Compar'd  with  the  speed  of  its  flight. 
The  tempest  itself  lags  behind, 

And  the  swift-winij'd  arrows  of  liffht. 
When  I  think  of  my  own  native  land, 

In  a  moment  I  seem  to  be  there ; 
But,  alas  !  recollection  at  hand 

Soon  hurries  me  back  to  despair. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  261 

7.  But  the  sea-fowl  is  gone  to  her  nest, 

The  beast  is  laid  down  in  his  lair  ;* 
Even  here  is  a  season  of  rest, 

And  I  to  my  cabin  repair. 
There's  mercy  in  every  place  ; 

And  mercy — encouraging  thought, 
Gives  even  affliction  a  grace, 

And  reconciles  man  to  his  lot. 


LESSON  CXXXL 

The  Hermit. — Parnell. 

L.Far  in  a  wild,  unknown  to  public  view, 
From  youth  to  age  a  rev'rend  hermit  grew. 
The  moss  his  bed,  the  cave  his  humble  cell. 
His  food  the  fruits,  his  drink  the  crystal  well ; 
Remote  from  man,  with  God  he  pass'd  the  days. 
Prayer  all  his  business,  all  his  pleasure  praise. 

2.  A  life  so  sacred,  such  serene  repose, 
Seem'd  heaven  itself,  till  one  suggestion  rose  : 
That  vice  should  triumph,  virtue  vice  obey  ; 
Thus  sprung  some  doubt  of  Providence's  sway. 
His  hopes  no  more  a  certain  prospect  boast. 
And  all  the  tenor  of  his  soul  is  lost. 

3.  So,  when  a  smooth  expanse  receives,  imprest 
Calm  nature's  image  on  its  wat'ry  breast, 

Down  bend  the  banks  ;  the  trees,  depending,  grow ; 
And  skies,  beneath,  with  ansv/'ring  colors  glow  : 
But  if  a  stone  the  gentle  sea  divide. 
Swift  ruffling  circles  curl  on  ev'ry  side ; 
And  glimm'ring  fragments  of  a  broken  sun, 
Banks,  trees  and  skies  in  thick  disorder  run. 

4.  To  clear  this  doubt ;  to  know  the  world  by  sight ; 
To  find  if  books  or  swains  report  it  right ; 

(For  yet  by  swains  alone  the  world  he  knew. 
Whose  feet  came  wand'ring  o'er  the  nightly  dew,) 
He  quits  his  cell ;  the  pilgrim  staff  he  bore. 
And  fix'd  the  scallopf  in  his  hat  before  ; 
Then,  with  the  sun  a  rising  journey  went, 
Sedate  to  think,  and  watching  each  event. 

*  Lair,  the  bed  or  couch  of  a  wild  beast. 

t  Scallop,  a  shell,  carried  by  pilgrims  in  their  hat,  with  which  they  dipped 
water  to  quench  their  thirst  when  travelling, 


262  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

5.  The  morn  was  wasted  in  the  pathless  grass, 
And  long  and  lonesome  was  the  wild  to  pass  : 
But  when  the  southern  sun  had  warm'd  the  day, 
A  youth  came  posting  o'er  the  crossing  way ; 
His  raiment  decent,  his  complexion  fair, 

And  soft,  in  graceful  ringlets  wav'd  his  hair. 

6.  Then  near  approaching,  "  Father,  hail !"  he  cry*d ; 
"  And  hail !  my  son,"  the  rev'rend  sire  reply'd  : 
Words  follow'd  words  ;  from  question  answer  llowM  ; 
And  talk  of  various  kind  deceiv'd  the  road  ; 

Till,  each  with  other  pleas'd,  and  loth  to  part. 
While  in  their  age  they  differ,  join  in  heart. 
Thus  stands  an  aged  elm  in  ivy  bound  ; 
Thus  youthful  ivy  clasps  an  elm  around. 

7.  Now  sunk  the  sun  ;  the  closing  hour  of  day 
Came  onward,  mantled  o'er  with  sober  gray  ; 
Nature,  in  silence,  bid  the  world  repose ; 
When,  near  the  road,  a  stately  palace  rose : 

There,  by  the  moon,  through  ranks  of  trees  they  pass, 
Whose  verdure  crown'd  their  sloping  sides  of  grass. 

8.  It  chanced  the  noble  master  of  the  dome 

Still  made  his  house  the  wand'ring  stranger's  home : 
Yet  still,  the  kindness,  from  a  thirst  of  praise, 
Prov'd  the  vain  flourish  of  expensive  ease. 
The  pair  arrive ;  the  liv'ry'd  servants  wait, 
Their  lord  receives  them  at  the  pompous  gate  ; 
A  table  groans  with  costly  piles  of  food ; 
And  all  is  more  than  hosjutably  good. 
Then,  led  to  rest,  the  day's  long  toil  they  drown. 
Deep  sunk  in  sleep,  and  silk,  and  heaps  of  down. 

9.  At  length  'tis  morn  ;  and  at  the  dawn  of  day, 
Along  the  wide  canals  the  zej)hyrs*  play; 

Fresh  o'er  the  gay  parterres,!  the  breezes  creep, 
And  shake  the  neighb'ring  wood,  to  banish  sleep. 
Up  rise  the  guests  obedient  to  the  call  ; 
An  early  banquet  deck'd  the  sj)lendid  hall ; 
Rich  luscious  wine  a  golden  goblet  grac'd. 
Which  the  kind  master  forc'd  the  guests  to  taste. 

10.  Then,  pleas'd  and  thankful,  from  the  porch  they  go; 
And,  but  the  landlord,  none  had  cause  of  woe; 

His  cup  was  vanish'd  ;  for  in  secret  guise, 

The  younger  guest  purloin'dj  the  glitt'ring  prize. 


♦  A  calm  soft  wind.  t  A  flower  bed.  t  Purloin,  to  steal. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  263 

As  one  who  sees  a  serpent  in  his  way, 
GHst'ning  and  basking  in  the  summer  ray, 
Disorder'd  stops  to  shun  the  danger  near, 
Then  walks  with  faintness  on,  and  looks  with  fear; 
So  seem'd  the  sire,  when,  far  upon  the  road, 
The  shining  spoil  his  wily  partner  show'd.  " 

11.  He  stopt  with  silence,  walk'd  with  trembling  heart, 
And  much  he  wish'd,  but  durst  not  ask  to  part : 
Murm'ring  he  lifts  his  eyes,  and  thinks  it  hard, 

That  gen'rous  actions  meets  a  base  reward. 
While  thus  they  pass  tho  sun  his  glory  shrouds  : 
The  chanorino-  skies  hang;  out  their  sable  clouds  : 
A  sound  in  air  presag'd  approaching  rain. 
And  beasts  to  covert  scud  across  the  plain, 

12.  Warn'd  by  the  signs  the  wand'ring  pair  retreat. 
To  seek  for  shelter  in  a  neighb'ring  seat, 

*Twas  built  with  turrets  on  a  rising  ground  ; 
And  strong  and  large,  and  unimprov'd  around : 
Its  owner's  temper,  tim'rous  and  severe. 
Unkind  and  griping,  caus'd  a  desert  there. 

13.  As  near  the  miser's  heavy  doors  they  drew. 
Fierce  rising  gusts  with  sudden  fury  blew ; 

The  nimble  lightning,  mix'd  with  showers  began, 
And  o'er  their  heads  loud  rolling  thunder  ran. 
Here  long  tliey  knock  ;  but  knock  or  call  in  vain. 
Driven  by  the  wind,  and  batter'd  by  the  rain. 

14.  At  length  some  pity  warm'd  the  master's  breast: 
('Twas  then  his  threshold  first  receiv'd  a  guest ;) 
Slow  creaking  turns  the  door,  with  jealous  care, 

And  half  he  Avelcomes  in  the  shiv'ring  pair. 
One  frugal  faggot  lights  the  naked  walls. 
And  nature's  fervor  through  their  limbs  recalls ; 
Bread  of  the  coarsest  sort,  with  meagre  wine, 
(Each  hardly  granted,)  serv'd  them  both  to  dine ; 
And  when  the  tempest  first  appear'd  to  cease, 
A  ready  warning  bid  them  part  in  peace. 

15.  With  still  remark,  the  pond'ring  hermit  view'd. 
In  one  so  rich,  a  life  so  poor  and  rude  : 

"  And  why  should  such,"  within  himself  he  cry'd, 
**  Lock  the  lost  wealth,  a  thousand  Avant  beside  ?" 
But  what  new  marks  of  wonder  soon  took  place, 
In  every  settling  feature  of  his  face, 
Wlien  from  his  vest,  the  young  companion  bore 
That  cup,  the  gen'rous  landlord  own'd  before, 


264  *  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

And  paid  profusely  with  the  precious  bowl, 
The  stinted  kindness  of  his  churlish  soul ! 

16.  But,  now  the  clouds  in  airy  tumult  fly  ; 
The  sun,  emerging,  opes  an  azure  sky ; 

A  fresher  green  the  smelling  leaves  display, 
And  glitt'ring  as  they  tremble,  cheer  the  day : 
The  weather  courts  them  from  the  poor  retreat ; 
And  the  glad  master  bolts  the  wary  gate. 

17.  While  hence  they  walk,  the  pilgrim's  bosom  wrought 
With  all  the  travail  of  uncertain  thought. 

His  partner's  acts  without  their  cause  appear — 
'Twas  there  a  vice,  and  seem'd  a  madness  here. 
Detesting  that,  and  pitying  this,  he  goes, 
Lost  and  confounded  m  itli  the  various  shows. 

18.  Now  night's  dim  shades  again  involve  the  sky — 
Again  the  wanderers  want  a  place  to  lie — 

Again  they  search,  and  find  a  lodging  nigh — 
The  soil  improv'd  around — the  mansion  neat — 
And  neither  poorly  low,  nor  idly  great : 
It  seem'd  to  speak  its  master's  turn  of  mind — 
Content,  and  not  for  praise,  but  virtue,  kind. 
Hither  the  walkers  turn  with  weary  feet ; 
Then  bless  the  mansion,  and  the  master  greet; 
Their  greeting  fair,  bestow'd  with  modest  guise, 
The  courteous  master  hears,  and  thus  replies. 

19.  "  Without  a  vain,  without  a  grudging  heart, 
To  him  who  gives  us  all,  I  yield  a  part : 

From  him  you  come,  from  him  accept  it  here — 
A  frank  and  sober,  more  than  costly  cheer." 
He  spoke  ;  and  bade  the  welcome  table  spread ; 
Then  talk'd  of  virtue  till  the  time  of  bed  ; 
When  the  grave  household  round  his  hall  repair, 
Warn'd  by  the  bell,  and  close  the  hours  with  prayer. 

20.  At  len<rth  the  world,  renew'd  by  calm  repose, 
Was  strong  for  toil ;  the  dappled  morn  arose  ; 
Before  the  pilgrims  part,  the  younger  crept 

Near  the  clos'd  cradle  where  an  infant  slept, 

And  writh'd*  his  neck ;  the  landlord's  little  pride — 

O  strange  return  ! — grew  black,  and  gasp'd  and  died. 

Horror  of  horrors  !  what !  his  only  son  ! 

How  l(X)k'd  our  hermit  when  the  deed  was  done  ! 

Not  hell,  though  hell's  black  jaws  in  sunder  part, 

And  breathe  blue  fire,  could  more  assault  his  heart. 


♦  Writhe,  to  twist  with  violence. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  265 

21.  Confus'd,  and  struck  with  silence  at  the  deed. 
He  flies :  but  trembling,  fails  to  fly  with  speed. 
His  steps  the  youth  pursues.     The  country  lay 
Perplex'd  with  roads ;  a  servant  show'd  the  way. 
A  river  cross'd  the  path.     The  passage  o'er 

Was  nice  to  find ;  the  servant  trod  before  ^ 
Long  arms  of  oak  an  open  bridge  supply'd, 
And  the  deep  waves,  beneath  the  bending,  glide. 
The  youth,  who  seem'd  to  watch  a  time  to  sin, 
Approach'd  the  careless  guide,  and  thrust  him  in  : 
Plunging,  he  falls  ;  and  rising,  lifts  his  head  ; 
Then  flashing,  turns,  and  sinks  among  the  dead. 

22.  Wild  sparkUng  rage  inflames  the  father's  eyes  ; 
He  bursts  the  bands  of  fear,  and  madly  cries, 

"  Detested  wretch  !" But  scarce  his  speech  began, 

When  the  strange  partner  seem'd  no  longer  man  ; 
His  youthful  face  grew  more  serenely  sweet, 
His  robe  turn'd  white,  and  flow'd  upon  his  feet ; 
Fair  rounds  of  radiant  points  invest  his  hair, 
Celestial  odors  breathe  tlirough  purpled  air ; 
And  wings,  whose  colors  glitter'd  on  the  day, 
Wide  at  his  back,  their  gradual  plumes  display. 
The  form  ethereal  bursts  upon  his  sight, 
And  moves  in  all  the  majesty  of  light. 

23.  Though  loud,  at  first,  the  pilgrims  passion  grew, 
Sudden  he  gaz'd,  and  wist*  not  what  to  do  ; 
Surprise  in  secret  chains,  his  words  suspends. 

And,  in  a  calm,  his  settled  temper  ends. 
But  silence  here,  the  beauteous  angel  broke  : 
The  voice  of  music  ravish'd  as  he  spoke : 

24.  "  Thy  prayer,  thy  praise,  thy  life,  to  vice  unkno^vn. 
In  sweet  memorial  rise  before  the  throne : 

These  charms  success  in  our  bright  region  find. 
And  force  an  angel  down  to  calm  thy  mind. 
For  this  commission' d,  I  forsook  the  sky  ; 
Nay,  cease  to  kneel,  thy  fellow  servant  I. 

25.  "  Then  know  the  truth  of  government  divine, 
And  let  these  scruples  be  no  longer  thine. 

The  Maker  justly  claims  that  world  he  made  ; 
In  this  the  right  of  providence  is  laid  : 
Its  sacred  majesty,  through  all,  depends 
On  using  second  means  to  work  his  ends. 

♦  Wist,  knew. 

33 


^GQ  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

'Tis  thus,  withdrawn  in  state  from  human  eye, 
The  Power  exerts  his  attributes  on  high ; 
Your  actions  uses,  nor  controls  your  will, 
And  bids  the  doubting  sons  of  men  be  still. 

26.  "  What  strange  events  can  strike  with  more  surprise, 
Than  those  which  lately  struck  thy  wond'ring  eyes  ? 

Yet  taught  by  these,  confess  the  Almighty  just, 
And  where  you  can't  unriddle,  learn  to  trust. 

27.  "  The  great,  vain  man,  who  far'd  on  costly  food, 
Whose  life  was  too  luxurious  to  be  good ; 

Who  made  his  ivory  stand  with  goblets  ^^hine. 
And  forced  his  guests  to  morning  draughts  of  wine  ; 
Has,  with  the  cup,  the  graceless  custom  lost, 
Yet  still  he  welcomes,  but  with  less  of  cost. 

28.  "  The  mean  suspicious  wretcli,  whose  bolted  door 
Ne'er  moved  in  pity  to  the  wand'ring  poor  ; 

With  him  I  left  the  cup,  to  teach  his  mind. 
That  heaven  can  bless,  if  mortals  will  be  kind. 
Conscious  of  wanting  worth,  he  views  the  bowl, 
And  feels  compassion  touch  his  churlish  soul. 
Thus  artists  melt  the  sullen  ore  of  lead, 
With  heaping  coals  of  fire  upon  its  head : 
In  the  kind  warmth  the  metal  learns  to  glow, 
And  loose  from  dross,  the  silver  runs  below. 

29.  "  Long  had  our  pious  friend  in  virtue  trod, 
But  now  the  child  half  wean'd  his  heart  from  God  ; 
(Child  of  his  age)  for  him  he  liv'd  in  pain. 

And  measured  back  his  ntcps  to  earth  again. 
To  what  excesses  had  his  dotage  run  ? 
But  God,  to  save  the  father,  took  the  son. 
To  all,  but  thee,  in  fits  he  seem'd  to  go, 
And  'twas  my  ministry  to  deal  the  blow. 
The  poor  fond  parent,  humbled  in  the  dust. 
Now  owns,  in  tears,  the  punishment  was  just. 

30.  "  But  how  had  all  his  fortune  felt  a  wreck. 
Had  that  false  servant  sped  in  safety  back ! 
This  night  his  treasur'd  heaps  he  meant  to  steal, 
And  what  a  fund  of  charity  would  fail ! 

Thus  heaven  instructs  thy  mind.     This  trial  o'er. 
Depart  in  peace,  resign,  and  sin  no  more." 

3L  On  sounding  pinions  here  the  youth  withdrew. 
The  sage  stood  wond'ring  as  the  seraph  flew. 
Thus  look'd  Elisha,  when  to  mount  on  high, 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  267 

His  master  took  the  chariot  of  the  sky:* 
The  fiery  pomp,  ascending,  left  the  view  ; 
The  prophet  gaz'd  and  wish'd  to  follow  too. 
The  bending  hermit  here  a  prayer  begun : 
"  Lord,  as  in  heaven,  on  earth  thy  will  be  done." 
Then,  gladly  turning,  sought  his  ancient  place, 
And  pass'd  a  life  of  piety  and  peace. 


LESSON  CXXXII. 

Character  of  William  Pitt.j  Earl  of  Chatham. — Anonymous. 

1.  The  secretary  stood  alone.  Modern  degeneracy  had  not 
reached  him.  Original  and  unaccommodating,  the  features  of 
his  character  had  the  hardihood  of  antiquity.  His  august  mind 
overawed  majesty  ;  and  one  of  his  sovereigns  thought  majesty 
so  impaired  in  his  presence,  that  he  conspired  to  remove  him, 
in  order  to  be  relieved  from  his  superiority.  No  state  chicanery 
— no  narrow  system  of  vicious  politics — no  idle  contest  for 
ministerial  victories,  sunk  him  to  the  vulgar  level  of  the  great — 
but  overbearing,  persuasive,  and  impracticable,  his  object  was 
England  ;  his  ambition  was  fame. 

2.  Without  dividing,  he  destroyed  party ;  without  corrupt- 
ing, he  made  a  venal  age  unanimous.  France  sunk  beneath 
him.  With  one  hand  he  smote  the  house  of  Bourbon,  and 
wielded,  in  the  other^  the  democracy  of  England.  The  sight 
of  his  mind  ^vas  infinite ;  and  his  schemes  were  to  affect,  not 
England — not  the  present  age  only — hut  Europe  a.nd  posteri- 
ty. Wonderful  were  the  means  by  which  these  schemes  were 
accomplished — always  seasonable — always  adequate — the  sug- 
gestions of  an  understanding,  animated  by  ardor,  and  enlight- 
ened by  prophecy. 

3.  The  ordinary  feelings  which  made  life  amiable  and  indo- 
lent— those  sensations  which  soften,  allure,  and  vulgarize,  were 
unknown  to  him.  No  domestic  difiiculties — no  domestic  weak- 
ness, reached  him — but  aloof  from  the  sordid  occurrences  of 
life,  and  unsullied  by  its  intercourse,  he  came  occasionally  into 
our  system  to  counsel  and  to  decide. 

4.  A  character  so  exalted,  so  strenuous,  so  various,  so  author- 
itative, astonished  a  corrupt  age,  and  the  Treasury  trembled  at 
the  name  of  Pitt,  through  all  her  classes  of  venality.     Corrup- 

*  See  2d  Kings,  chap.  ii. 

t  William  Pitt,  an  illustrious  English  Btatesiiirm,  born  in  1708,  and  died 
1778,  aged  70. 


268  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

tion  imagined^  indeed,  that  she  had  found  defects  in  this  states- 
man, and  talked  much  of  the  inconsistency  of  his  glory,  and 
much  of  the  ruin  of  his  victories — but  the  history  of  his  coun- 
try, and  the  calamities  of  the  enemy,  answered,  and  refuted  her. 

5.  Nor  were  his  political  abilities  his  only  talents.  His 
eloquence  was  an  era  in  the  Senate,  peculiar  and  spontaneous, 
familiarly  expressing  gigantic  sentiments  and  instructive  wis- 
dom; not  like  the  torrent  of  Demosthenes,  or  the  splendid  con- 
flagration of  Tully,  it  resembled  someimies  the  thunder,,  and 
sometimes  the  music  of  the  spheres.  Like  Murray,*  he  did 
not  conduct  the  understanding  through  tl.e  painful  subtlety  of 
argumentation;  nor  was  he,  likeTownsend,  for  ever  on  the  rack 
oi exertion;  but  rather  lightened  upon  the  subject,  and  reached 
the  point  by  the  flashings  of  his  mind,  which,  like  those  of  his 
eye,  were  felt ,  but  could  not  he  followed. 

6.  Upon  the  whole,  there  was  in  this  man  something  that 
could  create,,  subvert,  or  reform — an  understanding — a  sp?iit 
and  an  eloquence  to  summon  mankind  to  society,  or  to  break 
the  bonds  of  slavery  asunder,  and  to  rule  the  wilderness  of  free 
minds  with  unbounded  authority  ;  something  that  could  estab- 
lish or  overwhelm  empires,  and  strike  a  blow  in  the  world  that 
should  resound  through  the  universe. 


LESSON  cxxxin. 

Character  of  the  Puritans. — Edinburgh  Review. 

1.  The  Puritansf  were  men  whose  minds  had  derived  a 
peculiar  character  from  the  daily  contemplation  of  superior 
beings  and  eternal  interests.  Not  content  with  acknowledging, 
in  general  terms,  an  overruling  Providence,  they  habitually  as- 

*  William  Murrav,  Earl  of  Mansfield,  was  born  at  Perth,  in  Scotland, 
1705.  He  was  an  eminent  lawyer,  and  celebrated  for  integrity,  wisdom,  and 
discernment.     He  tiled  171)3. 

t  Puritans,  the  lir»t  s«'ttlers  of  New-England.  They  were  dissenters  from 
the  established  church,  ami  obtained  the  name  of  Puritans,  from  the  supe- 
rior purity  and  sim))licity  of  the  modes  of  worship  to  which  they  adhered. 
Being  persecuted  in  England,  a  small  number  removed  to  Leydcn,  in  Hol- 
land. After  residing  several  years  in  that  city,  they  resolved  to  leave  it, 
and  seek  an  as\luin  in  the  wilderness  of  America,  where  they  might  wor- 
ship God  agreeably  to  the  dictates  of  their  own  consciences.  On  the  22d 
of  Deceml>er,  1620,  they  landed  on  a  desolate  coast,  where  they  inmiedi- 
ati?ly  erected  huts,  and  called  the  place  Plymouth.  Their  number  amount- 
ed to  101.  They  suffered  incredible  hardshii)s  from  the  inclemency  of  the 
season,  want  of  provisions,  and  suitable  dwellings,  and  during  the  winter, 
one  half  of  their  number  perished. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  269 

cribed  every  event  to  the  will  of  the  Great  Being,  for  whosife 
power  nothing  was  too  vast,  for  whose  inspection  nothing  was 
too  minute.  To  know  him,  to  serve  him,  to  enjoy  him,  was 
with  them  the  great  end  of  existence. 

2.  Tliey  rejected  with  contempt  the  ceremonious  homage 
which  other  sects  substituted  for  the  pure  worship  of  the  soul. 
Instead  of  catching  occasional  glimpses  of.  the  Deity  through 
an  obscuring  veil,  they  aspired  to  gaze  full  on  the  intolerable 
brightness,  and  to  commune  with  him  face  to  face.  Hence 
originated  their  contempt  for  terrestrial  distinctions. 

.3.  The  difference  between  the  greatest  and  meanest  of  man- 
kind seemed  to  vanish,  when  compared  with  the  boundless  in- 
terval which  separated  the  whole  race  from  him  on  whom  their 
own  eyes  were  constantly  fixed.  They  recognized  no  title  to 
superiority  biit  his  favor ;  and,  confident  of  that  favor,  they 
despised  all  the  accomplishments  and  all  the  dignities  of  the 
world.  If  they  were  unacquainted  with  the  works  of  philoso- 
phers and  poets,  they  were  deeply  read  in  the  oracles  of  God. 

4.  If  their  names  were  not  found  in  the  registers  of  heralds, 
they  felt  assured  that  tliey  were  recorded  in  the  Book  of  Life. 
If  their  steps  were  not  accompanied  by  a  splendid  train  oi 
menials,  legions  of  ministering  angels  had  charge  over  them. 
Their  palaces  were  houses  not  made  with  hands ;  their  diadems 
crowns  of  glory  which  should  never  fade  away  ! 

5.  On  the  rich  and  the  eloquent,  on  nobles  and  priests,  they 
looked  down  with  contempt;  for  they  esteemed  themselves  rich 
in  a  more  precious  treasure,  and  eloquent  in  a  more  sublime 
language, — nobles  by  the  right  of  an  earlier  creation, — and, 
priests  by  the  imposition  of  a  mightier  hand. 

6.  The  very  meanest  of  them  was  a  being  to  whose  fate  a 
mysterious  and  terrible  importance  belonged — on  whose  slight- 
est action  the  spirits  of  light  and  darkness  looked  with  anxiosn 
interest,  wKo  had  been  destined,  before  heaven  and  earth  were 
created,  to  enjoy  a  felicity  which  should  continue  when  heaven 
and  earth  should  have  passed  away.  Events  which  short-sight- 
ed politicians  ascribed  to  earthly  causes,  had  been  ordained  on 
his  account. 

7.  For  his  sake  empires  had  risen,  and  flourished,  and  decay- 
ed. For  his  sake  the  Almighty  had  proclaimed  his  will  by  the 
pen  of  the  evangelist,  and  the  harp  of  the  prophet.  He  had 
been  rescued  by  no  common  deliverer  from  the  grasp  of  no 
common  foe.  He  had  been  ransomed  by  the  sweat  of  no  vulgar 
agony,  by  the  blood  of  no  earthly  sacrifice.  It  was  for  him.  that 
tlie  sun  had  been  darkened,  that  the  rocks  had  been  rent,  that 

23* 


270  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

the  dead  had  arisen,  that  all  nature  had  shuddered  at  the  suffer- 
ings of  her  expiring;  God  !* 

8.  Thus  the  Puritan  was  made  up  of  two  different  men,  the 
one  all  self-abasement,  penitence,  gratitude,  passion;  the  other 
proud,  calm,  inflexible,  sagacious.  He  prostrated  himself  in 
the  dust  before  his  Maker ;  but  he  set  his  foot  on  the  neck  of 
his  king.  In  liis  devotional  retirement,  he  prayed  with  convul- 
sions, and  groans  and  tears.  He  was  half  maddened  by  glori- 
ous or  terrible  illusions.  He  heard  the  lyres  of  angels  or  the 
tempting  whispers  of  fiends.  He  caught  a  gleam  of  the  beatilic 
vision,  or  woke  screaminof  from  dreams  of  everlasting  hre. 

9.  Like  Yane,!  he  thought  himself  intrusted  with  the  sceptre 
of  the  millennial  year.  Like  Fleetwood,^  he  cried  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  his  soul  that  God  had  hid  his  face  from  him.  But,  when 
he  took  his  seat  in  the  council,  or  girt  on  his  sword  for  war, 
these  tempestous  workings  of  the  soul  had  left  no  perceptible 
traces  behind  them.  Peo])le  who  saw  nothing  of  the  godly  but 
their  uncouth  visages,  and  lieard  nothing  from  them  but  their 
groans  and  their  hymns,  might  Jaugh  at  them.  But  those  had 
little  reason  to  laus:h  who  encountered  them  in  the  hall  of  de- 
bate, or  in  the  field  of  battle. 

10.  Tlie  Puritans  brought  to  civil  and  military  affaii-s,  a  cool- 
ness of  judgment,  and  an  iumiutid^ility  of  purpose,  which  some 
v.'riters  have  thought  inconsistent  with  their  relijrious  zeal,  but 
which  were  in  fact  the  necessary  effects  of  it.  The  intensity  of 
their  feelings  on  one  subject  made  them  tranquil  on  every  other 
One  overpowering  sentiment  had  subjected  to  itself  pity  and 
hatred,  ambition  and  fear.  Deatli  had  lost  iis  terrors,  and 
pleasure  its  charms. 

11.  Thev  had  their  smiles  and  their  tears,  their  raptures  and 
their  sorrows,  but  not  for  the  tilings  of  this  world.  Enthusiasm 
liad  made  them  stoics,  had  cleared  their  minds  from  every  vul- 
gar passion  and  prejudice,  and  raised  them  above  the  inlluence 
of  danger  and  of  corrupu«jn.  It  sometimes  might  lead  them 
to  pursue  imwise  ends,  but  never  to  choose  unwise  means. 

1*2.  We  acknowledge  that  the  tone  of  their  minds  was  often 
injured  by  straining  after  thini{s  too  high  for  mortal  reach:  And 
we  know  that,  in  spite  of  their  hatred  of  popery,  they  too  often 

*  Sec  St.  !Matihc'\v,  chap,  xxvii.  45 — 55. 

t  Sir  Honrv  Vane,  an  Englisli  statesman,  ami  a  political  and  theological 
writer,  was  beheaded  on  a  chartre  of  trea.<;cn,  in  IGlhJ. 

t  William  Fleetwood,  an  English  bishop,  was  born  in  ndon^  656,  and 
died  1723. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  271 

fell  into  the  vices  of  that  bad  system,  intolerance  and  extrava- 
gant austerity.  Yet,  when  all  circumstances  are  taken  into 
consideration,  we  do  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  them  a  brave, 
a  wise,  an  honest,  and  an  useful  body. 


LESSON  CXXXIV. 

Character  of  Washington* — Phillips. 

\.  No  matter  what  may  be  the  birth-place  of  such  a  man  as 
Washington.  No  climate  can  claim,  no  country  can  appro- 
priate him — the  boon  of  Providence  to  the  human  race — his 
fame  is  eternity, — his  residence  creation.  Though  it  was  the 
defeat  of  our  arms,  and  the  disgrace  of  our  policy,  I  almost 
bless  the  convulsion  in  which  he  had  his  origin :  if  the  heavens 
thundered  and  the  earth  rocked,  yet,  when  the  storm  passed, 
how  pure  was  the  climate  that  it  cleared — How  bright  in  the 
brow  of  the  firmament  was  the  planet  it  revealed  to  us!  In  the 
production  of  Washington,  it  does  really  appear  as  if  nature  was 
endeavoring  to  improve  upon  herself,  and  that  all  the  virtue?  of 
the  ancient  world  were  but  so  many  studies  preparatory  to  the 
patriot  of  the  new. 

2.  Individual  instances,  no  doubt,  there  were;  splendid  ex- 
emplifications of  some  single  qualification — Ca^sarf  was  merciful 
— Scipiof  was  continent,— Iiannibal|  was  patient, — but  it  was 
reserved  for  Washington  to  blend  them  all  in  one,  and  like  the 
lovely  master-piece  of  the  Grecian  artist,  to  exhibit  in  one  glow 
of  associated  beauty,  the  pride  of  every  model,  and  the  perfec- 
tion  of  every  master. 

*  Goorge  Washington,  the  commander  of  the  American  army  in  the  war 
of  the.  revolution,  and  the  tirst  ])resident  of  the  United  States,  was  the  son 
of  Augustine  Washington,  of  Virginia.  He  was  born  February  22d,  1732. 
At  the  age  of  19,  he  was  appointed  an  Adjutant-General  of  Virginia,  with 
the  rank  of  Major,  and  during  the  French  and  Indian  wars  which  imme- 
diately followed,  he  was  actively  engaged  in  defending  the  frontiers  of  his 
native  state.  In  1775,  when  the  United  Colonies  determined  to  resist  the 
Piritish  claims,  Washington  was  unanimously  appointed  to  the  command  of 
the  American  army.  He  accepted  the  olfice  with  great  diffidence,  and  de- 
clined any  'pecuniary  cmn'pensalion  for  his  services,  desiring  only  that  his 
expenses  should  be  defrayed  by  the  public.  He  immediately  entered  upon 
his  duties,  and  during  the  whole  of  the  revolutionary  war  and  the  establish- 
ing of  the  independence  of  the  United  States,  under  the  most  distres.sing 
and  discouraging  circumstances,  he  manifested  the  most  determined  resolu- 
tion, fortitude,  and  intrepidity.  He  was  the  tirst  president,  chosen  in  1789, 
which  office  he  held  eight  years.  He  died  December  14th,  171^9,  universal- 
ly honored,  esteemed,  and  beloved. 

t  A  Roman  General.  t  A  Carthaginian  General. 


2r2  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

3.  As  a  General,  he  marshalled  the  peasant  into  a  veteran, 
and  supplied  by  discipline  the  absence  of  experience.  As  a 
statesman,  he  enlarged  the  policy  of  the  cabinet  into  the  most 
comprehensive  system  of  general  advantage;  and  such  was  the 
wisdom  of  his  views,  and  the  philosophy  of  his  counsels,  that 
to  the  soldier  and  the  statesman,  he  almost  added  the  character 
of  the  sage. 

4.  A  conqueror,  he  M'-as  untainted  with  the  crime  of  blood — 
a  revolutionist,  he  was  free  from  any  stain  of  treason  ;  for  ag- 
gression commenced  the  contest,  and  a  country  called  him  to 
the  command — liberty  unsheathed  his  sword — necessity  stained, 
victory  returned  it.  If  he  had  paused  here,  history  might  doubt 
what  station  to  assign  him ;  whether  at  the  head  of  her  citizens 
or  her  soldiers — her  heroes  or  her  patriots.  But  the  last  glorious 
act  crowned  his  career,  and  banishes  hesitation.  Who,  like 
Washington,  after  having  freed  a  country,  resigned  her  crown, 
and  retired  to  a  cottage  rather  than  reign  in  a  capitol  ! 

5.  Immortal  man !  He  took  from  the  battle  its  crime,  and 
from  the  conquest  its  chains — he  left  the  victorious  the  glor>"  of 
his  self-denial,  and  turned  upon  the  vanquished  only  the  retri- 
bution of  his  mercy.  Happy,  proud  America!  The  lightnings 
of  heaven  yielded  to  your  philosophy  !* — The  temptations  of 
earth  could  not  seduce  your  patriotism  ! 


LESSON  CXXXV. 

Stanzas  addressed  to  the  Greeks. — Anonymous. 

1.  On,  on,  to  the  just  aud  glorious  strife! 

With  your  swords  your  freedom  shielding: 
Nay,  resign,  if  it  must  be  so,  even  life : 
But  die,  at  least,  unyielding. 

2.  On  to  tlie  strife  !  for  'twere  far  more  meet 

To  sink  with  the  foes  who  bay  you. 
Than  crouch,  like  dogs,  at  your  tyrants'  feet, 
And  smile  on  the  swords  tlial  slay  you. 

3.  Shall  the  pagan  slaves  be  masters,  then, 

Of  the  land  which  your  fathers  gave  you? 
Shall  the  Inlidel  lord  it  o'er  Christian  men, 
When  your  own  good  swords  may  save  you  ? 

*  Alludini^  to  Dr.  Franklin's  discoveries  in  electricity, — particularly  the 
piveiiition  of  lightning  rods. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  273 

.  No !  let  him  feel  that  their  arms  are  strong, — 

That  their  courage  will  fail  them  never, — 
Who  strike  to  repay  long  years  of  wrong, 
And  bury  past  shame  for  ever. 

5.  Let  him  know  there  are  hearts,  however  bowed 

By  the  chains  which  he  threw  around  them, 
That  will  rise,  like  a  spirit  from  pall  and  shroud. 
And  cry  "  wo  !"  to  the  slaves  who  bound  them. 

6.  Let  him  learn  how  weak  is  a  tyrant's  might 

Against  liberty's  sword  contending ; 
And  find  how  the  sons  of  Greece  can  fight, 
Their  freedom  and  land  defending. 

7.  Then  on !  then  on  to  the  glorious  strife  ! 

With  your  swords  your  country  shielding ; 
And  resign,  if  it  must  be  so,  even  life ; 
But  die,  at  least,  unyielding. 

8.  Strike  !  for  the  sires  who  left  you  free  ! 

Strike  !  for  their  sakes  who  bore  you  ! 
Strike  !  for  your  homes  and  liberty, 
And  the  heaven  you  worship  o'er  you ! 


LESSON  CXXXVL 

Song  of  the  Greeks,  1822. — Campbell. 

1.  Again  to  the  battle,  Achaians  ! 

Our  hearts  bid  the  tyrants  defiance ; 
Our  land, — the  first  garden  of  Liberty's  tree ; 
It  has  been,  and  shall  ijet  be,  the  land  of  the  free  ; 

For  the  cross  of  our  faith  is  replanted, 

The  pale  dying  crescent  is  daunted, 
And  we  march  that  the  foot-prints  of  Mahomet's*  slaves 
May  be  washed  out  in  blood  from  our  forefathers'  graves. 

Their  spirits  are  hovering  o'er  us, 

And  the  sword  shall  to  glory  restore  us, 

2.  Ah  !   what  though  no  succor  advances. 

Nor  Christendom's  chivalrous  lances 

*  Mah-o-inct,  a  celebrated  impostor,  born  at  Mecca,  A.  D,  57i,  and  died 
A.  D.  632. 


274  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Are  stretched  in  our  aid  ? — Be  the  combat  our  own ! 

And  we'll  perish  or  conquer  more  proudly  alone  : 
For  we've  sworn,  by  our  country's  assaulters, 
By  the  virgins  they've  dragged  from  our  altars, 

By  our  massacred  patriots,  our  children  in  chains, 

By  our  heroes  of  old,  and  their  blood  in  our  veins, 
That  living,  we  will  be  victorious. 
Or  that  dying,  our  deaths  shall  be  glorious, 

3.  A  breath  of  submission  we  breathe  not : 

The  sword  that  we've  drawn  we  will  sheathe  not ; 
Its  scabbard  is  left  where  our  martyrs  are  laid. 
And  the  vengeance  of  ages  has  whetted  its  blade. 

Earth  may  hide — waves  ingulph — fire  consume  us. 

But  they  shall  not  to  slavery  doom  us  : 
If  they  rule,  it  shall  be  o'er  our  ashes  and  graves  : — 
But  we've  smote  them  already  with  hre  on  the  waves^ 

And  new  triumphs  on  la'nd  are  before  us. 

To  the  charge  ! — Heaven's  banner  is  o'er  us. 

4.  This  day — shall  ye  blush  for  its  story  ? 

Or  brighten  your  lives  with  its  glory  ? — 
Our  women — Oh,  say,  shall  they  shriek  in  despair. 
Or  embrace  us  from  conquest,  with  wreaths  in  their  hair  ? 

Accursed  may  his  memory  blacken, 

If  a  coward  there  be  that  would  slacken, 
Till  we've  trampled  the  turban,  and  shown  ourselves  worth 
Beings  sprung  from,  and  named  for,  the  godlike  of  earth. 

Strike  home  ! — and  the  world  shall  revere  us 

As  heroes  descended  from  heroes. 

5.  Old  Greece  lightens  up  with  emotion 

Her  inlands,  her  isles  of  the  ocean  : 
Fanes*  rebuilt,  and  fair  towns,  shall  with  jubilee  ring, 
And  the  Ninef  shall  new-hallow  their  Helicon's  spring. 
Our  hearths  shall  be  kindled  in  gladness, 
That  were  cold  and  extinguished  in  sadness  ; 
Whilst  our  maidens  shall  dance  with  their  white  waving  arms, 
Singing  joy  to  the  brave  that  delivered  their  charms. 
When  the  blood  of  yon  Mussulman  cravens 
Shall  have  crimsoned  the  beaks  of  our  ravens. 


•  Fane,  a  temple.  t  The  Nine  Muaee. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  275 

LESSON  CXXXVII. 

JVarren^s*  Address  to  the  American  Soldiers,  before  the  Battle 
of  Bunker'' s  Hill. — Pierpont. 

1.  Stand  !  the  g^round's  your  own,  my  ^braves ! 
Will  ye  give  it  np  to  slaves  ? 

Will  ye  look  for  greener  graves  ? 

Hope  ye  mercy  still  ? 
What's  the  mercy  despots  feel ! 
Hear  it  in  that  battle  peal  ! 
Read  it  on  yon  bristling  steel ! 

Ask  it — ye  who  will. 

2.  Fear  ye  foes  who  kill  for  hire  ? 
Will  yon  to  your  homes  retire  ? 
Look  behind  you  !  they're  afire  ! 

And,  before  you,  see 
Who  have  done  it ! — From  the  vale 
On  they  come  ! — and  will  ye  quail  ? 
Leaden  rain  and  iron  hail 

Let  their  welcome  be  ! 

3.  In  the  God  of  battles  trust ! 

Die  we  may — and  die  we  nuis^t : — 
But,  O,  where  can  dust  to  dust 

Be  consigned  so  well, 
As  where  heaven  its  dews  shall  shed 
On  the  martyred  patriot's  bed, 
And  the  rocks  shall  raise  their  head, 

Of  his  deeds  to  tell  ? 


LESSON  CXXXVIII. 

Address  to  the  Patriots  of  the  Revolution. — From  D.  Web- 
ster* s  Speech^  delivered  at  the  laying  of  the  Corner  Stone  of 
the  Bunker  Hill  Mo  mime  nt,  June  17 th,  1825. 

1.  Venerable  Men  !  you  have  come  down  to  us,  from  a 
former  generation.  Heaven  has  bounteously  lengthened  out 
your  lives,  that  you  might  behold  this  joyous  day.  You  are 
now  where  you  stood  fifty  years  ago,  this  very  hour,  with  your 
brothers,  and  your  neighbors,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  in  the  strife 
for  your  country. 

*  Joseph  Warren,  a  Major-Gencral  in  the  American  army,  killed  at  the 
baUle  of  Bunker's  Hill,  June  17th,  1775. 


276  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

2.  Behold  how  altered!  The  same  heavens  are  indeed  over 
your  heads :  the  same  ocean  rolls  at  yom-  feet ;  but  all  else,  how 
changed  !  You  hear  now  no  roar  of  hostile  cannon,  you  see 
no  mixed  volumes  of  smoke  and  flame  rising  from  burning 
Charlestown  ;* 

3.  The  ground  strewed  with  the  dead  and  the  dying ;  the 
impetuous  charore;  the  steady  and  successful  repulse  ;  the  loud 
call  to  repeated  assault;  the  summoning  of  all  that  is  manly  to 
repeated  resistance ;  a  thousand  bosoms  freely  and  fearlessly 
bared  in  an  instant  to  whatever  terror  there  may  be  in  war 
and  death ; — all  these  you  have  witnessed,  but  you  witness  them 
no  more.     All  is  peace. 

4.  The  heights  of  yonder  metropolis,  its  towers  and  roofs, 
which  you  then  saw  filled  with  wives  and  children  and  country- 
men in  distress  and  terror,  and  loolving  with  unutterable  emo- 
tions for  the  issue  of  the  combat,  have  presented  you  to-day 
with  the  sight  of  its  whole  happy  population,  come  out  to  wel- 
come and  ffreet  you  with  an  universal  jubilee. 

5.  Yonder  proud  ships,  by  a  felicity  of  position  appropriately 
lying  at  the  foot  of  this  mount,  and  seeming  fondfy  to  cling 
around  it,  are  not  means  of  annoyance  to  you,  l)ut  your  country's 
own  means  of  distinction  and  defence.  All  is  peace  ;  and  God 
has  granted  you  this  sight  of  your  country's  happiness,  ere  you 
slumber  in  the  grave  for  ever. 

6.  He  has  allowed  you  to  behold  and  to  partake  the  reward 
of  your  patriotic  toils ;  and  he  has  allowed  us,  your  sons  and 
countrymen,  to  meet  you  here,  and,  in  the  name  of  the  present 
generation,  in  the  name  of  your  country,  in  the  name  of  liberty, 
to  thank  you  ! 

7.  But,  alas!  you  are  not  all  here!  Time  and  the  sword  have 
thinned  your  ranks.  Prescott,  Putnam,  Stark,  Brooks,  Read, 
Pomeroy,  Bridge  !  our  eyes  seek  for  you  in  vain  amidst  this 
broken  band.  You  are  gathered  to  your  fathers,  and  live  only 
to  your  country  in  her  grateful  remembrance,  and  your  own 
bright  example.  - 

8.  But  let  us  not  too  much  grieve,  that  you  have  met  the  com- 
mon fate  of  men.  You  lived,  at  least  long  enough  to  know  that 
your  work  had  been  nobly  and  successfully  accomplished.  You 
lived  to  see  your  country's  independence  established,  and  to 
sheathe  your  swords  from  war.  On  the  light  of  Liberty  you 
saw  arise  the  ligrht  of  Peace,  and  the  sky,  on  which  you  closed 
your  eyes,  Avas  cloudless. 

♦  The  British  burnt  Charlestown,  on  their  way  to  the  battle  of  Bunker's 
Hill,  June  17th,  1775. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  277 

LESSON  CXXXIX. 

Specimen  of  the  Eloquence  of  James  Otis  :*  extracted  from 
"  the  Rebels.^'' — Miss  Francis. 

1.  England  may  as  well  dam  up  the  waters  of  the  Nile,  with 
bulrushes,  as  to  fetter  the  step  of  freedom,  more  proud  and  firm 
in  this  youthful  land,  than  where  she  treads  the  sequestered  glens 
of  Scotland,  or  couches  herself  among-  the  magnificent  moun- 
tains of  Switzerland.  Arbitrary  principles,  like  those,  against 
which  we  now  contend,  have  cost  one  kingf  of  England  his 
life,  another  J  his  crown — and  they  may  yet  cost  a  third  ||  his 
most  flourishing  colonies. 

2.  We  are  two  millions — one  fifth  fighting  men.  We  are 
bold  and  vigorous, — and  we  call  no  man  master.  To  the  nation 
from  whom  we  are  proud  to  derive  our  origin,  we  ever  were, 
and  we  ever  will  be,  ready  to  yield  unforced  assistance  ;  but  it 
must  not,  and  it  never  can  be  extorted. 

3.  Some  have  sneeringly  asked,  "Are  the  Americans  too  poor 
to  pay  a  few  pounds  on  stamped  paper  ?"  No  !  America,  thanks 
to  God  and  herself,  is  rich.  But  the  right  to  take  ten  pounds 
implies  the  right  to  take  a  thousand ;  and  what  must  be  the 
wealth  that  avarice,  aided  by  power,  cannot  exhaust  ?  True,  the 
spectre  is  now  small ;  but  the  shadow  he  casts  before  him,  is 
huge  enough  to  darken  all  this  fair  land. 

4.  Others,  in  sentimental  style,  talk  of  the  immense  debt  of 
gratitude,  which  we  owe  to  England.  And  what  is  the  amount 
of  this  debt  ?  Why,  truly,  it  is  the  same  that  the  young  lion  owes 
to  the  dam,  which  has  brought  it  forth  on  the  solitude  of  the 
mountain,  or  left  it  amid  the  winds  and  storms  of  the  desert. 

5.  We  plunged  into  the  wave,  with  the  great  charter  of  free- 
dom in  our  teeth,  because  the  faggot  and  torch  were  behind  us. 
We  have  waked  this  new  world  from  its  savage  lethargy  ;  for- 
ests have  been  prostrated  in  our  path  ;  towns  and  cities  have 
grown  up  suddenly  as  the  flowers  of  the  tropics,  and  the  fires  in 
our  autumnal  woods  are  scarcely  more  rapid,  than  the  increase 
of  our  wealth  and  population. 

6.  And  do  we  owe  all  this  to  the  kind  succor  of  the  mothei 
country  ?  No  !  we  owe  it  to  the  tyranny,  that  drove  us  from  h^ 
— to  the  pelting  storms,  which  invigorated  our  helpless  infancy. 

♦  James  Otis,  a  lawyer  of  Massachusetts, — a  zealous  defender  of  the  right* 
of  the  American  colonies. 

t  Charles  I.     He  was  beheaded  in  1649. 

t  James  II.     He  abdicated  the  throne,  and  fled  to  France  in  1688,  whew  ■ 
he  died  in  1701. 

U  George  III.    He  died  in  1820,  having  reigned  60  years. 

24 


278  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

7.  But  perhaps  others  will  say,  "  We  ask  no  money  from  your 
gratitude, — Ave  only  demand  that  you  should  pay  your  own 
expenses."  And  who,  I  pray,  is  to  judge  of  their  necessity  ? 
Why,  the  King — (and  with  all  due  reverence  to  his  sacred 
majesty,  he  understands  the  real  wants  of  his  distant  subjects, 
as  little  as  he  does  the  language  of  the  Choctaws.)*  Who  is 
to  judge  concerning  the  frequency  of  these  demands  ?  The 
ministry.  Who  is  to  judge  whether  the  money  is  properly 
expended  ?     The  cabinet  behind  the  throne. 

8.  In  every  instance,  those  who  take,  are  to  judge  for  those 
who  pay ;  if  this  system  is  suffered  to  go  into  operation,  we 
shall  have  reason  to  esteem  it  a  great  privilege,  that  rain  and 
dew  do  not  depend  upon  parliament ;  otherwise  they  would 
soon  be  taxed  and  dried. 

9.  But  thanks  to  God,  there  is  freedom  enough  left  upon 
earth  to  resist  such  monstrous  injustice.  The  flame  of  liberty 
is  extinguished  in  Greece  and  Rome,  but  the  light  of  its  glowing 
embers  is  still  bright  and  strong  on  the  shores  of  America. 
Actuated  by  its  sacred  influence,  we  will  resist  unto  death. 

10.  But  we  will  not  countenance  anarchy  and  misrule.  The 
wrongs,  that  a  desperate  community  have  heaped  upon  their 
enemies,  shall  be  amply  and  speedily  repaired.  Still,  it  may  be 
well  for  some  proud  men  to  remember,  that  a  fire  is  lighted  in 
these  colonies,  whicli  one  breath  of  tlieir  king  may  kindle  into 
such  fury  that  the  blood  of  all  England  cannot  extinguish  it. 


LESSON  CXL. 

On  Conciliation  with  America. — Edmund  Burke.i 

\.  For  that  service,  for  all  service,  whether  of  revenue,  trade, 
or  empire,  my  trust  is  in  her  interest  in  the  British  Constitution 
My  hold  of  the  colonies  is  in  the  close  aflection  which  grows 
from  common  names,  from  kindred  blood,  from  similar  privi- 
leges, and  equal  protection.  These  are  ties,  which,  thougli 
light  as  air,  are  as  strong  as  links  of  iron. 

2.  Let  the  colonies  always  keep  the  idea  of  their  civil  rights 
associated  with  your  government ;  they  will  cling  and  grapple 
to  you  ;  and  no  force  under  heaven  will  be  of  power  to  tear 

♦  Choctaws,  a  tribe  of  Indians  inhabiting  the  southern  part  of  the  United 
States. 

t  Ednjund  Burke,  a  celebrated  orator  and  statesman,  bom  in  the  county 
of  Cork,  Ireland,  in  1730.  He  became  a  member  of  the  British  Parhament 
in  1765,  and  died  in  1797. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  279 

them  from  their  allegiance.  But  let  it  once  be  understood,  that 
your  government  may  be  one  thing,  and  their  pivileges  another: 
that  these  two  things  may  exist  without  any  mutual  relation  : 
the  cement  is  gone ;  the  cohesion  is  loosened ;  and  every  thing 
hastens  to  decay  and  dissolution. 

3.  As  lonff  as  you  have  the  Vvdsdom  to  keep  the  sovereign 
authority  of  this  country  as  t*  sanctuary  of  liberty,  the  sacred 
temple  consecrated  to  our  common  faith,  wherever  the  chosen 
race  and  sons  of  England  v/orship  freedom,  they  will  turn  their 
laces  towards  you.  The  more  they  multiply,  the  more  friends 
you  will  have.     The  more  ardently  they  love  liberty,  the  more 

,  perfect  will  be  their  obedience. 

4.  Slavery  they  can  have  any  where.  It  is  a  weed  that  grows 
in  every  soil.  They  may  have  it  from  Spain,  they  may  have  it 
from  Prussia.  But  until  you  become  lost  to  all  feelings  of  your 
true  interest  and  your  iiational  dignity,  freedom  they  can  have 
from  none  but  you.  This  is  the  commodity  of  price,  of  which 
you  have  the  monopoly. 

5.  This  is  the  true  act  of  navigation,  which  binds  to  you  the 
comm^erce  of  the  colonies,  and  through  them  secures  to  you  the 
wealth  of  the  world.  Deny  them  this  participation  of  freedom, 
and  you  break  that  sole  bond,  which  originally  made,  and  must 
still  preserve  the  unity  of  the  empire. 

6.  Do  not  entertain  so  weak  an  imagination,  as  that  your 
registers  and  your  bonds,  your  affidavits  and  your  sufferances, 
your  cockers*  and  your  clearances,  are  what  form  the  great 
securities  of  ycur  commerce.  Do  not  dream  that  your  letters 
of  office,  an<l  your  instructions,  and  your  suspending  clauses, 
are  the  things  that  hold  together  the  great  contexture  of  this 
mysterious  whole. 

7.  These  things  do  not  make  your  government,  dead  instru- 
ments, passive  tools  as  they  are  ;  it  is  the  spirit  of  the  English 
constitution  that  gives  all  their  life  and  efficacy  to  them.  It  is 
tiie  spirit  of  the  English  constitution,  which,  infused  through  the 
mighty  mass,  pervades,  feeds,  unites,  invigorates,  vivifies,  every 
part  of  the  empire,  even  down  to  the  minutest  member. 

8.  Is  it  not  the  same  idrtue  w^hich  does  every  thing  for  us 
iiere  in  England  ?  Do  you  imagine  then,  that  it  is  the  land  tax 
v/hich  raises  your  revenue  ?  that  it  is  the  annual  vote  in  the 
committee  of  supply,  which  gives  you  your  army  ?  or  that  it  is 
the  mutiny  bill  which  inspires  it  with  bravery  and  discipline ; 

*  Cocket,  a  roll  of  parchment,  sealed  and  delivered  by  the  officers  of  the 
custom-house  to  merchants,  as  a  warrant  that  their  merchandise  is  entered* 


280  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

9.  No  !  surely  no  !  It  is  the  love  of  the  people — it  is  their 
attachment  to  their  government  from  the  sense  of  the  deep  stake 
they  have  in  such  a  glorious  institution,  which  gives  you  your 
army  and  your  navy,  and  infuses  into  both  tliat  liberal  obedi- 
ence, without  which  your  army  would  be  a  base  rabble,  and 
your  navy  nothing  but  rotten  timber. 

10.  All  this,  I  know  well  enough,  will  sound  wild  and 
chimerical  to  the  profane  herd  of  those  vulgar  and  mechanical 
politicians,  who  have  no  place  among  us ;  a  sort  of  people  who 
think  that  nothing  exists  but  what  is  gross  and  material ;  and 
who  therefore,  far  from  being  qualified  to  be  directors  of  the 
great  movement  of  empire,  are  not  fit  to  turn  a  wheel  in  the 
machine. 

11.  But  to  men  truly  initiated  and  rightly  taught,  these  ruling 
and  master  principles,  which,  in  the  opinion  of  such  men  as  I 
have  mentioned,  have  no  substantial  existence,  are  in  truth  every 
thing,  and  all  in  all.  Magnanimity  in  politics  is  not  seldom 
the  truest  wisdom ;  and  a  great  empire  and  little  minds  go  ill 
together.  If  we  are  conscious  of  our  situation,  and  glow  with 
zeal  to  fill  our  place  as  becomes  our  station  and  ourselves,  we 
ought  to  auspicate  all  our  public  proceedings  on  America,  with 
tlie  old  warning  of  the  church,  Sursjwi  corda!*  We  ought  to 
elevate  our  minds  to  the  orreatness  of  that  trust  to  which  the 
order  of  Providence  has  called  us. 

12.  By  adverting  to  the  dignity  of  this  high  calling,  our  an- 
cestors have  turned  a  savage  wilderness  into  a  glorious  empire; 
and  have  made  the  most  extensive,  and  the  only  honorable  con- 
quests ;  not  by  destroying,  but  by  promoting,  the  wealth,  the 
number,  the  happiness,  of  the  human  race.  Let  us  get  an  Amer- 
ican revenue  as  we  have  got  an  American  empire.  English 
privileges  have  made  it  all  that  it  is  ;  English  privileges  alone 
will  make  it  all  that  it  can  be. 


LESSON  CXLI. 

Speech  on  the  Question  of  War  with  England. — Patrick 

Henry. 

1.  This,  Sir,  is  no  time  for  ceremony.  The  question  before 
the  house  is  one  of  awful  moment  to  this  country.  For  my 
own  part,  I  consider  it  as  nothing  less  than  a  question  of  freedom 
or  slavery.  And  in  proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  the  subject 
ought  to  be  the  freedom  of  the  debate.  It  is  only  in  this  way 
*  Sursiun  corda,  raise  our  souls. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  281 

that  we  can  hope  to  arrive  at  truth,  and  fulfil  the  great  responsi- 
bility which  we  liold  to  God  and  our  country.  Should  I  keep 
back  my  opinions  at  this  time,  through  fear  of  giving  offence,  1 
should  consider  myself  as  guilty  of  treason  towards  my  country, 
and  of  an  act  of  disloyalty  towards  the  majesty  of  Heaven, 
which  I  revere  above  all  earthly  kings. 

2.  Mr.  President,  it  is  natural  to  man  to  indulge  in  the  illu- 
sions of  hope.  We  are  apt  to  shut  our  eyes  against  a  painful 
truth — and  listen  to  the  song  of  that  syren,  till  she  transforms 
us  into  beasts.  Is  this  the  part  of  wise  men  engaged  in  a  great 
and  arduous  struggle  for  liberty?  Are  we  disposed  to  be  of  the 
number  of  those,  who,  having  eyes,  see  not,  and  having  ears, 
hear  not,  the  things  which  so  nearly  concern  their  temporal 
salvation?  For  my  part,  whatever  anguish  of  spirit  it  may 
cost,  I  am  willing  to  know  the  whole  truth;  to  laiow  the  worst, 
and  to  provide  for  it. 

3.  I  have  but  one  lamp  by  which  my  feet  are  guided  ;  and 
that  is  the  lamp  of  experience.  I  know  of  no  way  of  judging 
of  the  future  but  by  the  past.  And  judging  by  the  past,  I  wish 
to  know  what  there  has  been  in  the  conduct  of  the  British  min- 
istry for  the  last  ten  years,  to  justify  those  hopes  with  which 
gentlemen  have  been  pleased  to  solace  themselves  and  the  house? 
Is  it  that  insidious  smile  Avith  which  our  petition  has  been  lately 
received  ?  Trust  it  not;  sir ;  it  will  prove  a  snare  to  your  feet. 
Suffer  not  yourselves  to  be  betrayed  with  a  kiss.  Ask  your- 
selves how  this  gracious  reception  of  our  petition  comports  with 
those  warlike  preparations  which  cover  our  waters,  and  darken 
our  land. 

4.  Are  fleets  and  armies  necessary  to  a  work  of  love  and 
reconciliation?  Have  we  shown  ourselves  so  unwilling  to  be 
reconciled,  that  force  nlust  be  called  in  to  win  back  our  love? 
Let  us  not  deceive  ourselves,  sir.  Tliese  are  the  implements  of 
war  and  subjugation — the  last  arguments  to  which  kings  resort. 
I  ask,  sir,  what  means  this  martial  array,  if  its  purpose  be  not 
to  force  us  to  submission  ?  Can  gentlemen  assign  any  other 
possible  motive  for  it  ?  Has  Great  Britain  any  enemy  in  this 
quarter  of  the  world,  to  call  for  all  this  accumulation  of  navies 
and  armies  ?  No,  sir,  she  has  none.  They  are  meant  for  us  : 
they  can  be  meant  for  no  other.  They  are  sent  over  to  bind 
and  rivet  upon  us  those  chains,  which  the  British  ministry  have 
bet^n  so  long  forging. 

5.  And  what  have  we  to  oppose  to  them  ?  Shall  we  try 
argument?  Sir,  we  have  been  trying  that  for  the  last  ten  years. 
Have  we  any  thing  new  to  ofler  upon  the  subject?     Nothing. 


383  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

We  have  held  the  subject  up  in  every  light  of  which  it  is  capa- 
ble ;  but  it  has  been  all  in  vain.  Shall  we  resort  to  entreaty 
and  humble  supplication  ?  What  terms  shall  we  find,  which 
have  not  been  already  exhausted  ?  Let  us  not,  I  beseech  you, 
sir,  deceive  ourselves  longer. 

6.  Sir,  we  have  done  every  thing  that  could  be  done,  to  avert 
the  storm  that  is  now  coming  on.  We  have  petitioned — we 
have  remonstrated — we  have  supplicated — we  have  prostrated 
ourselves  before  the  throne,  and  have  implored  its  interposition 
to  arrest  the  tyrannical  hands  of  the  ministry  and  parliament. 
Our  petitions  have  been  slighted;  our  remonstrances  have  pro- 
duced additional  violence  and  insult ;  our  supplications  have 
been  disregarded  ;  and  we  have  been  spurned,  with  contempt, 
from  the  foot  of  the  throne. 

7.  In  vain,  after  these  things,  may  we  indulge  the  fond  hope 
of  peace  and  reconciliation.  There  is  no  longer  any  room  for 
hope.  If  we  wish  to  be  free — if  we  mean  to  preserve  inviolable 
tliose  inestimable  privileges  for  which  we  have  been  so  long 
contending — if  we  mean  not  basely  to  abandon  the  noble  strug- 
gle in  which  we  have  been  so  long  engaged,  and  which  we  have 
pledged  ourselves  never  to  abandon,  until  tlic  glorious  object  of 
our  contest  shall  be  obtained — we  must  fight! — I  repeat  it,  sir, 
we  must  fight ! !  An  appeal  to  arms  and  to  the  God  of  Hosts 
is  all  that  is  left  us ! 

8.  They  tell  us,  sir,  that  we  are  weak — unable  to  cope  with 
so  formidable  an  adversary.  But  when  shall  we  be  stronger  ? 
Will  it  be  the  next  week  or  the  next  year  ?  Will  it  be  when 
we  are  totally  disarmed,  and  when  a  British  guard  shall  be 
stationed  in  every  house  ?  Shall  we  gather  strength  by  irreso- 
lution and  inaction?  Shall  we  acquire  the  means  of  effecting 
resistance  by  lying  supinely  on  our  backs,  and  hugging  the 
delusive  phantom  of  hope,  until  our  enemies  shall  have  bound 
us  hand  and  foot?  Sir,  we  are  not  weak,  if  we  make  a  proper 
use  of  those  means  which  the  God  of  nature  hath  placed  in  our 
power. 

9.  Three  millions  of  people  armed  in  the  holy  cause  of  liber- 
ty,andin  such  a  country  as  that  which  we  possess,  are  invincible 
by  any  force  which  our  enemy  can  send  against  us.  Besides, 
sir,  we  shall  not  fight  our  battles  alone.  There  is  a  just  God 
who  presides  over  the  destinies  of  nations:  and  who  will  raise 
ap  friends  to  fight  our  battles  for  us. 

10.  The  battle,  sir,  is  not  to  the  strong  alone ;  it  is  to  the 
vigilant-,  the  active,  the  brave.  Besides,  sir,  we  have  no  elec- 
tion.    If  we  were  base  enough  to  desire  it,  it  is  now  too  late  to 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  283 

retire  from  the  contest.  There  is  no  retreat  but  in  submission 
and  slavery  !  Our  chains  are  forged.  Their  clanking  may  be 
heard  on  the  plains  of  Boston !  The  war  is  inevitable — and 
let  it  come  ! !     I  repeat  it,  sir,  let  it  come  ! ! ! 

11.  It  is  in  vain,  sir,  to  extenuate  the  matter.  Gentlemen 
may  cry,  peace,  peace — but  there  is  no  peace.  The  war  has 
actually  begun !  The  next  gale  that  sweeps  from  the  north 
will  bring  to  our  ears  the  clash  of  resounding  arms  !  Our 
brethren  are  already  in  the  field  !  Why  stand  we  here  idle  ? 
What  is  it  that  gentlemen  wish  ?  What  would  they  have  ?  Is 
life  so  dear,  or  peace  so  sweet,  as  to  be  purchased  at  the  price  of 
chains  and  slavery  ?  Forbid  it.  Almighty  God  ! — I  know  not 
what  course  others  may  take ;  but  as  for  me,  give  me  liberty, 
or  give  me  death ! 


LESSON  CXLIL 

On  the  Existence  of  a  Deity. — Yoijng. 

1.  Retire — the  world  shut  out — thy  thoughts  call  home- 
Imagination's  airy  wing  repress. 

Lock  up  thy  senses.     Let  no  passion  stir. 
Wake  all  to  reason.     Let  her  reign  alone. 
Then,  in  thy  soul's  deep  silence,  and  the  depth 
Of  nature's  silence,  midnight,  thus  inquire: 
What  am  I  ?  and  from  whence  ?  I  nothing  know 
But  that  I  am ;  and  since  I  am,  conclude 
Something  eternal.     Had  there  e'er  been  nought, 
Nought  still  had  been.     Eternal  there  must  be. 

2.  But,  what  eternal  ?  Why  not  human  race. 
And  Adam's  ancestors,  without  an  end  ? 
That's  hard  to  be  conceiv'd,  since  ev'ry  link 
Of  that  long  chain'd  succession  is  so  frail ; 
Can  every  part  depend  and  not  the  whole  ? 
Yet,  grant  it  true,  new  difficulties  rise : 

I'm  still  quite  out  at  sea,  nor  see  the  shore. 
Whence  earth  and  the.e  bright  orbs  ?  Eternal  too  ? 
Grant  matter  was  eternal ;  still  these  orbs 
Would  want  some  other  father.     Much  design 
Is  seen  in  all  their  motions,  all  their  makes. 
Design  implies  intelligence  and  art. 
That  can't  be  from  themselves — or  man ;  that  art 
Man  scarce  can  comprehend,  could  man  bestow  ? 
And  nothing  greater  yet  allow'd  than  man. 


2&4  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

3.  Who,  motion,  foreign  to  the  smallest  grain, 
Shot  through  vast  masses  of  enormous  weight? 
Who  bid  brute  matter's  restive  lump  assume 
Such  various  forms,  and  gave  it  wings  to  fly  ? 
Has  matter  innate  motion  ?  Then  each  atom. 
Asserting  its  indisputable  right 
To  dance,  would  form  an  universe  of  dust. 
Has  matter  none  ? — then  whence  these  glorious  forms 
And  boundless  flights,  from  shapeless  and  repos'd  ? 
Has  matter  more  than  motion  ?  Has  it  thought. 
Judgment  and  genius?  Is  it  deeply  learn'd 
In  mathematics  ?  Has  it  fram'd  such  laws, 
Which,  but  to  guess,  a  Newton  made  immortal  ? 
If  art  to  form,  and  council  to  conduct, 
And  that  with  greater  far  than  hunian  skill, 
Resides  not  in  each  block — a  Godhead  reigns — 
And  if  a  God  there  is — that  God  how  great ! 


LESSON  CXLIII. 

To-morrow. — Cotton. 

1.  To-morrow,  didst  thou  say? 
Methought  I  heard  Horatio  say,  To-morrow. 
Go  to — I  will  not  hear  of  it — To-morrow  ! 
'Tis  a  sharper,  who  stakes  his  penury 
Against  thy  plenty — \vho  takes  thy  ready  cash. 

And  pays  thee  nought,  but  wishes,  hoj)es,  and  promises, 

The  currency  of  idiots — injurious  bankrupt. 

That  gulls  the  easy  tereditor  ! — To-morrow  ! 

It  is  a  period  no  where  to  be  found 

In  all  the  hoary  registers  of  Time, 

Unless  perchance  in  the  fool's  calendar. 

2.  Wisdom  disclaims  the  word,  nor  holds  society 
With  those  who  own  it.     No,  my  Horatio, 

*Tis  Fancy's  child,  and  Folly  is  its  father; 
Wrought  of  such  stuff  as  dreams  ;'re,  and  as  baseless 
As  the  fantastic  visions  of  the  evening. 
But  soft,  my  friend — arrest  the  present  moment: 
For  be  assur'd  they  all  are  arrant  tell-tales : 
And  though  their  fliglU  be  silent,  and  their  path 
Trackless,  as  the  wing'd  couriers  of  the  air, 
They  post  to  Iieaven,  and  there  record  thy  folly. 
Because,  though  station'd  on  th'  important  watch, 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  285 

Thou,  like  a  sleeping,  faithless  sentinel, 
Didst  let  them  pass  unnotic'd,  unimprov'd. 
And  know,  for  that  thou  slumb'rest  on  the  guard, 
Thou  shalt  be  made  to  answer  at  the  bar 
For  every  fugitive :  and  when  thou  thus 
Shalt  stand  impleaded  at  the  high  tribunal 
Of  hood-wink'd  Justice,  who  shall  tell  thy  audit  ? 
3.  Then  stay  the  present  instant,  dear  Horatio, 
Imprint  the  marks  of  wisdom  on  its  wings. 
'Tis  of  more  worth  than  kingdoms  !  far  more  precious 
Than  all  the  crimson  treasures  of  life's  fountain. 
O  !  let  it  not  elude  thy  grasp  ;  but,  like 
The  good  old  patriarch*  upon  record. 
Hold  the  fleet  angel  fast  until  he  bless  thee. 


LESSON  CXLIV. 

Vanity  of  Power  and  Misery  of  Kings. — Shakspearb. 

1.  No  matter  where  ;  of  comfort  no  man  speak : 
Let's  talk  of  graves,  of  worms,  and  epitaphs  : 
Make  dust  our  paper,  and  with  rainy  eyes 
Write  sorrow  on  the  bosom  of  the  earth. 

Let's  choose  executors,  and  talk  of  wills: 
And  yet  not  so, — for  what  can  we  bequeath. 
Save  our  deposed  bodies  to  the  ground  ? 
Our  lands,  our  lives,  and  all  are  Bolingbroke's, 
And  nothing  can  we  call  our  own,  but  death  % 
And  that  small  model  of  the  barren  earth, 
Which  serves  as  paste  and  cover  to  our  bones. 

2.  For  heaven's  sake,  let  us  sit  upon  the  ground. 
And  tell  sad  stories  of  the  death  of  kings  : — 
How  some  have  been  depos'd,  some  slain  in  war ; 
Some  haunted  by  the  ghosts  they  have  depos'd ; 
Some  poison'd  by  their  wives,  some  sleeping  kill'd ; 
All  murder' d  ; — 

3.  For  within  the  hollow  crown 
That  rounds  the  mortal  temples  of  a  king. 
Keeps  death  his  court :  and  there  the  antic  sits. 
Scoffing  his  state,  and  grinning  at  his  pomp; 
AlloAving  him  a  breath,  a  little  scene, 

To  monarchize,  be  fear'd,  and  kill  with  looks ; 
Infusing  him  with  self  and  vain  conceit, — 
♦  See  Genesis,  chap,  xxxii.  24 — 30, 


286  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

As  if  this  flesh,  which  walls  about  our  life, 
Were  brass  impregnable ;  and  humor'd  thus, 
Comes  at  the  last,  and  with  a  little  pin 
Bores  through  his  castle  wall,  and — farewell  king ! 

4.  Cover  vour  heads,  and  mock  not  flesh  and  blood 
With  solemn  reverence  ;  throw  away  respect, 
Tradition,  form,  and  cerem.onious  duty, 
For  you  have  but  mistook  me  all  this  while : 
I  live  with  bread  like  you,  feel  want,  taste  grief, 
Need  friends  : — Subjected  thus. 
How  can  you  say  to  me — I  am  a  king  ? 


LESSON  CXLV. 

Darkness. — Byron. 

\.  I  HAD  a  dream,  which  was  not  all  a  dream. 
The  bright  sun  was  extinguished, — and  the  stars 
Did  wander  darkling  in  the  eternal  space, 
Rayless,  and  pathless — and  the  icy  earth 
Swung  l)lind  and  blackening  in  the  moonless  air; 
Morn  came,  and  went — and  came,  and  brought  no  day, 
And  men  forgot  their  passions  in  the  dread 
Of  this  their  desolation  :  and  all  hearts 
Were  chill'd  into  a  selfish  prayer  for  light : 

2.  And  they  did  live  by  watchfires — and  the  thrones, 
The  palaces  of  crowned  kings — the  huts, 

The  habitations  of  all  things  which  dwell, 
Were  burnt  for  beacons  ;  cities  were  consumed, 
And  men  were  gathcr'd  round  their  blazing  homes 
To  look  once  more  into  each  other's  face ; 
Happy  were  those  who  dwelt  within  the  eye 
Of  the  volcanos,  and  their  mountain  torch  : 
A  fearful  hope  was  all  the  world  contaln'd  ; 
Forests  were  set  on  fire — but  hour  by  hour 
They  fell  and  faded — and  the  crackling  trunks 
Extin2:uish'd  with  a  crash — and  all  was  black. 

3.  The  brows  of  men  by  the  despairing  light 
AVore  an  unearthly  aspect,  as  by  fits 

The  flashes  fell  upon  them  ;  some  lay  do\m 

*  Lord  George  Gordon  Byron,  an  Englisli  nol.krnan,  distinguished  as  a 
poet.  He  was  born  in  London,  Jan.  '22d,  178?!,  and  died  at  Missolonghi,  in 
April,  1824,  while  assisting  the  Greeks  in  their  gloiious  struggle  for  freedom. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  287 

And  hid  their  eyes  and  wept ;  and  some  did  rest 
Their  chins  upon  their  clenched  hands,  and  smiled ; 
And  others  hurried  to  and  fro,  and  fed 
Their  funeral  piles  with  fuel,  and  look'd  up 
With  mad  disquietude  on  the  dull  sky, 
The  pall  of  a  past  world ;  and  then  again 
With  curses  cast  them  down  upon  the  dust, 
And  gnash'd  their  teeth  and  howl'd. 

4.  The  wild  birds  shriek'd, 
And,  terrified,  did  flutter  on  the  ground, 

And  flap  their  useless  wings ;  the  wildest  brutes 
Came  tame  and  tremulous ;  and  vipers  crawl'd 
And  twin'd  themselves  among  the  multitude. 
Hissing,  but  stingless — they  were  slain  for  food : 

5.  And  War,  which  for  a  moment  was  no  more. 
Did  glut  himself  again  ; — a  meal  Avas  bought 
With  blood,  and  each  sate  sullenly  apart 
Gorging  himself  in  gloom  :  no  love  was  left ; 

All  earth  was  but  one  thought — and  that  was  death, 

Immediate  and  inglorious ;  and  the  pang 

Of  famine  fed  upon  all  entrails — men 

Died,  and  their  bones  were  tombless  as  their  flesh. 

6.  The  meagre  by  the  meagre  were  devour'd ; 
Even  dogs  assail'd  their  masters,  all  save  one, 
And  he  was  faithful  to  a  corse,  and  kept 

The  birds  and  beasts,  and  famish'd  men  at  bay. 
Till  hunger  ckmg  them,  or  the  dropping  dead 
Lured  their  lank  jaws  ;  himself  sought  out  no  food, 
But  with  a  piteous  and  perpetual  moan 
And  a  quick  desolate  cry,  licking  the  hand 
Which  answer'd  not  with  a  caress — he  died. 

7.  The  crowd  was  famish'd  by  degrees ;  but  two 
Of  an  enorm.ous  city  did  survive, 

And  they  were  enemies ;  they  met  beside 

The  dying  embers  of  an  altar-place. 

Where  had  been  heap'd  a  mass  of  holy  things 

For  an  unholy  usage ;  they  raked  up. 

And  shivering  scraped  with  their  cold  skeleton  hands 

The  feeble  ashes,  and  their  feeble  breath 

Blew  for  a  little  life,  and  made  a  fl.ame 

Which  was  a  mockery ;  then  they  lifted  up 

Their  eyes  as  it  grew  lighter,  and  beheld 

Each  other's  aspects — saw,  and  shriek'd,  and  died— 

Even  of  their  mutual  hideousness  they  died, 


^8  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Unknowing  who  he  was  upon  whose  brow 
Famine  had  written  Fiend. 

8.  The  world  was  void, 
The  populous  and  the  powerful  was  a  lump, 
Seasonless,  herbless,  treeless,  manless,  lifeless — 
A  lump  of  death — a  chaos  of  hard  clay. 

The  rivers,  lakes,  and  ocean  all  stood  still. 

And  nothing  stirred  within  their  silent  depths ; 

Ships  sailoriess  lay  rotting  on  the  sea. 

And  their  masts  fell  down  ^piecemeal ;  as  they  droppM 

They  slept  on  the  abyss  without  a  surge — 

9.  The  wa-^-^es  were  dead ;  the  tides  were  in  their  grave ; 
The  moon,  their  mistress,  had  expired  before ; 

The  winds  were  wither'd  in  the  stagnant  air. 
And  the  clouds  perish'd :  Darkness  had  no  need 
Of  aid  from  them — She  was  the  universe. 


LESSON  CXLVL 

Hannibal*  to  Scipio  Africanus,  at  their  interview  preceding 
the  Battle  of  Zama.^ 

1.  Since  fate  has  so  ordained  it,  that  I,  who  began  the  war, 
and  who  have  been  so  often  on  the  point  of  ending  it  by  a  com- 
plete conquest,  should  now  come  of  my  own  motion,  to  ask  a 
peace — I  am  glad  that  it  is  of  you,  Scipio,  I  have  the  fortune  to 

*  Hannibal,  a  celebrated  Carthaginian,  and  one  of  the  greatest  generals 
of  antiquity,  was  born  252  years  B.C.  At  9  years  of  age,  his  father,  Hamil- 
car,  made  him  swear  on  the  altar,  eternal  enmity  to  Rome.  At  25  years  of 
age,  he  took  upon  him  the  command  of  the  armj,  and  having  conquered  the 
lioman  forces  in  Spain,  he  led  his  army  over  the  Pyrenees  and  Alps  into 
Italy.  Here  he  gained  many  imjxirtant  victories  ;  and  during  sixteen  years 
conquered  every  army  which  the  Romans  sent  against  him.  At  the  end  o( 
this  time,  the  Romans  sent  an  army  into  Africa,  under  the  command  of 
Scipio,  and  the  Carthaginians  called  Hannibal  outof  Italy  to  defend  his  own 
country.  He  was  defeated  by  Scipio  at  the  battle  of  Zania,  and  was  obliged 
to  flee  his  country.  He  led  a  wandering  life  at  the  courts  of  Antiochus  and 
Prusias,  in  Asia,  and  at  last  destroyed  hmiself  by  poison,  when  he  was  about 
to  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the  Romans,  B.  C.  182,  aged  70. 

t  The  battle  of  Zama  was  fought  196  years  B.  C.  in  which  the  Cartham- 
nians  were  totally  defeati  d,  and  an  end  put  to  the  second  Punic  War.  The 
three  v,'r«rs  between  Rome  f\p  J  Carthage  were  called  Punic  Wars.  The^r*! 
Punic  War  commenced  264  years  B.  C.  and  lasted  23  years.  The  second 
commenced  218  years  B.  C.  and  lasted  22  yeju-s.  The  third  commenced  149 
years  B.  C.  and  lasted  3  years ;  when  Carthage  was  entirely  destroyed,  146 
years  B.C. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  289 

ask  it.  Nor  will  this  be  among  the  least  of  your  glories,  that 
Hannibal,  victorious  over  so  many  Roman  Generals,  submitted 
at  last  to  you. 

2  I  could  wish,  that  our  fathers  and  we  had  confined  our 
ambition  within  the  limits  which  nature  seems,  to  have  prescrib- 
ed to  it ;  the  shores  of  Africa,  and  the  shores  of  Italy.  The 
gods  did  not  give  us  that  mind.  On  both  sides  we  have  been 
so  eager  after  ioreign  possessions,  as  to  put  our  own  to  the  haz- 
ard of  v/ar.  Rome  and  Carthage  have  had,  each  in  her  turn, 
the  enemy  at  her  gates. 

3.  But  since  errors  past  may  be  more  easily  blamed  than 
corrected,  let  it  now  be  the  work  of  you  and  me,  to  put  an  end, 
if  possible,  to  the  obstinate  contention. — For  my  own  part,  my 
years,  and  the  experience  I  have  had  of  the  instability  of  fortune, 
incline  me  to  leave  nothing  to  her  determination  which  reason 
can  decide.  But  much  I  fear,  Scipio,  that  your  youth,  your 
want  of  the  like  experience,  your  uninterrupted  success,  may 
render  you  averse  from  the  thoughts  of  peace. 

4.  He  whom  fortune  has  never  failed,  rarely  reflects  upon  her 
inconstancy.  Yet  without  recurring  to  former  examples,  my 
own  may  perhaps  suffice  to  teach  you  moderation.  I  am  the 
same  Hannibal,  who,  after  my  victory  at  Canna?,  became  master 
of  the  greatest  part  of  your  country,  and  deliberated  with  myself 
what  fate  I  should  decree  to  Italy  and  Rome. 

5.  And  now — see  the  change !  Here,  in  x\frica,  I  am  come  to 
treat  with  a  Roman,  for  my  own  preservation  and  my  country's. 
Such  are  the  sports  of  fortune.  Is  she  then  to  be  trusted  because 
she  smiles  ?  An  advanlageoas  peace  is  preferable  to  the  hope  of 
victory.  The  one  is  in  your  own  power,  the  other  at  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  gods.  Should  you  prove  victorious,  it  would  add 
little  to  your  own  glory  or  the  glory  of  your  country ;  if  van- 
quished, you  lose,  in  one  hour,  all  the  honor  and  reputation  you 
have  been  so  many  years  acquiring. 

G.  But  what  is  my  aim  in  all  this  ?  That  you  should  content 
yourself  with  our  cession  of  Spain,  Sicily,  Sardinia,  and  all  Isl- 
ands between  Italy  and  Africa.  A  peace  on  these  conditions 
will,  in  my  opinion,  not  only  secure  the  future  tranquillity  of 
Carthage,  but  be  sufficiently  glorious  for  you  and  for  the  Roman 
name.  And  do  not  tell  me,  that  som^e  of  our  citizens  deali 
fraudulently  with  you  in  the  late  treaty. — It  is  I,  Hannibal, 
that  now  ask  a  peace  : — I  ask  it,  because  I  think  it  expedient 
for  my  comitry ;  and  thinking  it  expedient,  I  will  inviolably 
maintain  it. 


290  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  CXLVIL 

Scipio^s*  Reply  to  Hannibal, 

1.  I  KNEW  very  well,  Hannibal,  that  it  was  the  hope  of  your 
return,  which  emboldened  the  Carthaginians  to  break  the  truce 
with  us,  and  lay  aside  all  thoughts  of  peace,  when  it  was  just 
upon  the  point  of  being  concluded ;  and  your  present  proposal 
is  a  proof  of  it.  You  retrench  from  their  concessions,  every 
thing  but  what  we  are  and  have  been  long  possessed  of 

2.  But  as  it  is  your  care,  that  your  fellow  citizens  should  have 
the  obligation  to  you,  of  being  eased  from  a  great  part  of  their 
burden,  so  it  ought  to  be  mine,  that  they  draw  no  advantage 
from  their  perfidiousness.  Nobody  is  more  sensible  than  I  am 
of  the  weakness  of  man,  and  the  power  of  fortune,  and  that 
whatever  we  enterprise,  is  subject  to  a  thousand  chances. 

3.  If  before  the  Romans  passed  into  Africa,  you  had,  of  your 
own  accord,  quitted  Italy,  and  made  the  offers  you  now  make, 
I  believe  they  would  not  have  been  rejected.  But,  as  you  have 
been  forced  out  of  Italy,  and  we  are  masters  here  of  the  open 
country,  the  situation  of  things  is  much  altered. 

4.  And  what  is  chiefly  to  be  considered,  the  Carthaginians, 
by  the  late  treaty,  which  we  entered  into  at  their  request,  were, 
over  and  above  what  you  offer,  to  have  restored  to  us  our  pris- 
oners without  ransom,  delivered  up  their  ships  of  war,  paid  us 
five  thousand  talents,  and  to  have  given  hostages  for  the  per- 
formance of  all. 

5  The  senate  accepted  these  conditions,  but  Carthage  failed 
on  her  part:  Carthage  deceived  us.  What  then  is  to  be  done? 
Are  the  Carthaginians  to  be  released  from  the  most  important 
articles  of  the  treaty,  as  a  reward  for  their  breach  of  faith?  No, 
certainly. 

6.  If  to  the  conditions  before  agreed  upon,  you  had  added 
some  new  articles,  to  our  advantage,  there  would  have  been 
matter  of  reference  to  the  Roman  people  ;  but  when,  instead  ol 
adding,  you  retrench,  there  is  no  room  for  deliberation.  The 
Carthaginians,  therefore,  must  submit  to  us  at  discretion,  or 
must  vanquish  us  in  battle. 

*  Publius  Cornelius  Scipio,  an  illustrious  Roman  and  brave  general. — 
While  Hannibal  was  in  the  northern  part  of  Italy,  the  Roman  Senate  sent 
Scipio  into  Africa  to  carry  war  to  the  gates  of  Carthage.  He  defeated  the 
Carthaginians  under  Hannibal  at  the  battle  of  Zama,  and  obtained  the  hon- 
orable surname  of  Africanus.  He  was  afterwards  treated  with  ingratitude 
and  basene««8  by  the  Romans,  and  fled  from  the  public  clamors,  and  died  in 
retireinfjfit  B.C.  180 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  291 

LESSON  CXLVIII. 

Cassius*  instigating'  Brutus  to  join  the  Conspiracy  against 
Cesar. — Tragedy  of  Julius  Cesar. 

1.  Honor  is  the  subject  of  my  story — 
I  cannot  tell  what  you  and  other  men 
Think  of  this  life  ;  but  for  my  single  self, 
I  had  as  lief  not  be,  as  live  to  be 

In  awe  of  such  a  thing  as  myself. 
I  was  born  free  as  Cesar  ;t  so  were  you : 
We  both  have  fed  as  well ;  and  we  can  both 
Endure  the  winter's  cold  as  well  as  he. 

2.  For  once  upon  a  raw  and  gusty  day, 
The  troubled  TiberJ  chafing  with  his  shores, 
Cesar  says  to  me,  "  Dar'st  thou,  Cassius,  now 
Leap  in  with  me  into  this  angry  flood, 

And  swim  to  yonder  point  ?" — Upon  the  word, 

Accoutred  as  I  was,  I  plunged  in, 

And  bade  him  follow ;  so  indeed  he  did. 

The  torrent  roar'd,  and  we  did  buffet  it ; 

With  lusty  sinews  throwing  it  aside. 

And  stemming  it  with  hearts  of  controversy. 

3.  But  ere  we  could  arrive  the  point  propos'd, 
Cesar  cry'd,  "Help  me,  Cassius,  or  I  sink." 

*  Caius  Cassius,  a  celebrated  Roman,  who  was  attached  to  the  interests 
of  Pompey,  and  when  Cesar  obtained  the  victory  in  the  plains  of  Pharsalia, 
Cassius  owed  his  life  to  the  mercy  of  the  conqueror.  He  was  an  artful  and 
ambitious  man,  and  was  at  the  head  of  the  conspiracy  against  Cesar.  At 
the  battle  of  Philippi,  fearful  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies,  he 
caused  one  of  his  slaves  to  slay  him  with  the  very  sword  with  which  he  had 
given  wounds  to  Cesar,  B.  C.  42. 

t  Caius  Julius  Cesar,  an  illustrious  Roman  general  and  historian,  wa.s 
born  B.  C.  98.  He  was  famous  for  his  learning,  his  ambition,  his  valor,  and 
his  tragical  death.  By  his  valor  and  eloquence  he  acquired  the  highest  re- 
putation in  the  field  and  in  the  senate ;  and  enjoyed  every  magisterial  and 
military  honor  that  the  republic  could  bestow.  In  59  B.  C.  the  government 
of  the  Roman  Commonwealth  was  divided  between  Cesar,  Crassus,  and 
Pompey.  Jealousies  soon  arose,  which  terminated  in^a  civil  war.  Cesar 
subdued  Pompey,  and  became  master  of  the  Commonwealth.  His  ambition 
became  boundless — he  grasped  at  sovereign  power.  But  he  was  beloved  by 
the  Roman  people,  and  they  thought  no  honor,  except  that  of  king,  too  great 
to  be  conferred  on  him.  In  the  midst  of  his  ambitious  projects,  a  conspiracy 
was  formed  against  him,  headed  by  Cassius  and  Brutus,  and  he  was  assas- 
sinated in  the  senate-house,  B.  C.  43,  in  the  56th  year  of  his  age.  It  is  said 
that  lie  conquered  300  nations,  took  800  cities,  and  defeated  3,000,000  of 
people,  1,000,000  of  which  fell  in  battle. 

t  Tiber,  a  river  of  Italy,  on  whose  banks  the  city  of  Rome  was  built. 


292  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

I,  as  jEneas,*  our  great  ancestor, 

Did  from  the  flames  of  Troy  upon  his  shoulder 

The  old  Anchises  bear,  so,  from  the  waves  of  Tiber 

Did  I  the  tired  Cesar ;  and  this  man 

Is  now  become  a  god ;  and  Cassius  is 

A  wretched  creature,  and  must  bend  his  body 

If  Cesar  carelessly  but  nod  on  him. 

4.  He  had  a  fever  when  he  was  in  Spain, 
And  when  the  fit  was  on  him,  I  did  mark 

How  he  did  shake  ;  'tis  true  :  this  god  did  shake ; 

His  coward  lips  did  from  their  color  fly ; 

And  that  same  eye,  whose  bend  doth  awe  the  world, 

Did  lose  its  lustre ;  I  did  hear  him  groan, 

Aye,  and  that  tongue  of  his,  that  bade  the  Romans 

Mark  him,  and  write  his  speeches  in  their  books, 

"Alas  !"  it  cry'd — "Give  me  some  drink,  Titinius" — 

As  a  sick  girl. 

5.  Ye  gods,  it  doth  amaze  me, 
A  man  of  such  a  feeble  temper  should 

So  get  the  start  of  the  majestic  world, 

And  bear  the  palm  alone. 

Brutus  and  Cesar  ! — What  should  be  in  that  Cesar  ? 
Why  should  that  name  be  sounded  more  than  yours? 
Write  them  together ;  yours  is  as  fair  a  name : 
Sound  them ;  it  doth  become  the  mouth  as  well : 
Weigh  them  ;  it  is  as  heavy :  conjure  with  'em ; 
Brutus  will  start  a  spirit  as  soon  as  Cesar. 

6.  Now  in  the  name  of  all  the  gods  at  once, 
Upon  what  meats  doth  this  our  Cesar  feed. 

That  he  has  grown  so  great?  Age,  thou  art  sham'd ; 
Rome,  thou  bast  lost  the  breed  of  noble  bloods. 
When  went  there  by  an  age,  since  the  groat  flood. 
But  it  was  fam'd  with  more  than  one  man  ? 
When  could  they  say,  till  now,  that  talk'd  of  Rome, 
That  her  wide  walls  encompass'd  but  one  man  t 
Oh !  you  and  I  have  heard  our  fathers  say. 
There  was  a  Brutus  once,  that  would  have  brook'd 
Th'  infernal  devil,  to  keep  his  state  in  Rome, 
As  easily  as  a  king. 

*  ^noas,  a  Trojan  prince,  son  of  Anchises  and  Venus, 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  293 

LESSON  CXLIX. 

Brutus''*  Speech  on  the  Death  of  Cesar. — Tragedy  of  Julius 

Cesar. 

1.  Romans,  Countrymen,  and  Lovers, — Hear  me,  for  my 
cause ;  and  be  silent,  that  you  may  hear.  BeUeve  me,  for  mine 
honor;  and  have  respect  for  mine  honor,  that  you  may  beheve. 
Censure  me,  in  your  wisdom ;  and  awake  your  senses,  that  you 
may  the  better  judge. 

2.  If  there  be  any  in  this  assembly,  any  dear  friend  of  Cesar, 
to  him  I  say,  that  Brutus'  love  to  Cesar  was  no  less  than  his, 
If  then,  that  friend  demand,  why  Brutus  rose  against  Cesar,  this 
is  my  answer ;  not  that  I  loved  Cesar  less,  but  that  I  love  Rome 
more. 

3.  Had  you  rather  Cesar  were  living,  and  die  all  slaves,  than 
that  Cesar  were  dead,  to  live  all  freemen?  As  Cesar  loved  me, 
I  weep  for  him;  as  he  was  fortunate,  I  rejoice  at  it;  as  he 
was  valiant,  I  honor  him;  but,  as  he  was  ambitious,  I  slew 
him. 

4.  There  are  tears  for  his  love,  joy  for  his  fortune,  honor  for 
his  valor,  and  death  for  his  ambition.  Who's  here  so  base, 
that  he  would  be  a  bondman  ?  If  any,  speak;  for  him  have  I 
offended. 

5.  Who's  here  so  rude,  that  he  would  not  be  a  Roman?  If 
any,  speak;  for  him  have  I  offended.  Who's  here  so  vile,  tl.at 
he  will  not  love  his  country?  If  any,  speak;  for  him  have  I 
offended.     I  pause  for  a  reply. 

6.  None?  Then  none  have  I  offended.  I  have  done  no 
more  to  Cesar,  than  you  should  do  to  Brutus.  And  as  I  slew 
my  best  lover  for  the  good  of  Rome,  I  reserve  the  same  dag- 
ger for  myself,  whenever  it  shall  please  my  country  to  need 
my  death. 

*  Marcus  Brutus,  a  brave,  virtuous,  and  honorable  Roman — but  a  blind 
poIiticiaTi.  He  was  the  dnpe  of  Cassius'  flattery  and  art, — and  was  instiga- 
ted by  him,  to  join  the  conspiracy  against  Cesar,  that  liis  virtues  and  popu- 
larity might  sanction  the  atrocious  deed.  Cesar  was  Brutus'  best  and  most 
intimate  friend.  After  the  assassination  of  Cesar,  Brutus  fied  with  the  other 
conspirators,  collected  an  army,  was  defeated  at  the  decisive  battle  of  Phi- 
lippi,  fell  upon  his  sword,  and  died  B.  C.  42. 

25* 


2^4        NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  CL. 

Antonyms*  Speech  over  the  Body  of  Cesar. — Tragedy  of 

Julius  Cesar. 

1.  Friends,  Romans,  Countrymen! — Lend  me  your  ears. 
I  come  to  bury  Cesar,  not  to  praise  him. 

The  evil  that  men  do,  lives  after  them : 
The  good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones  : 
So  let  it  be  with  Cesar ! 

2.  Noble  Brutus 

Hath  told  you  Cesar  was  ambitious. 
If  it  were  so,  it  was  a  grievous  fault ; 
And  grievously  hath  Cesar  answer'd  it. 
Here,  under  leave  of  Brutus  and  the  rest, 
(For  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man, 
So  are  they  all,  all  honorable  men) 
Come  I  to  speak  in  Cesar's  funeral 

3.  He  was  my  friend,  faithful  and  just  to  me : 
But  Brutus  says  he  was  aml^itious ; 

And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 
He  hath  brought  many  captives  home  to  Rome, 
Whose  ransoms  did  the  general  coffers  fill : 
Did  this  in  Cesar  seem  ambitious  ? 

4.  When  that  the  poor  hath  cried,  Cesar  hath  wept ! 
Ambition  should  be  made  of  sterner  stuff. 

Yet  Brutus  says  he  was  ambitious  ; 

And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 

You  all  did  see,  that,  on  the  Lupercal,t 

I  thrice  presented  him  a  kingly  crown ; 

Which  he  did  thrice  refuse :  Was  this  ambition  ? 

Yet  Brutus  says  he  was  ambitious ; 

And  sure  he  is  an  honorable  man. 

5.  I  speak  not  to  disprove  what  Brutus  spoke ; 
But  here  I  am  to  speak  what  I  do  know. 

*  Marcus  Antony,  a  brave,  ambitious,  artful,  and  designing  Roman.  He 
was  warmly  attached  to  Cesar,  and  after  his  assassination  he  resolved  to 
seize  the  opportunity  fur  raising  himself  to  power.  He  artfully  procured  a 
public  funeral  for  Cesar,  and  took  this  occasion  to  harangue  the  soldiers  and 
populace  in  his  favor, — and  he  inflamed  them  so  much  against  the  conspira- 
tors, that  Brutus  and  Cassius  were  obliged  to  leave  the  city.  He  led  an 
army  against  the  conspirators,  and  defeated  them  at  Philippi.  He  obtained 
a  share  of  the  Roman  empire  in  the  triumvirate  wliich  he  formed  with  Au- 
fTUatus  Cesar  and  Marcus  Lepidus.  But  dissensions  arising  between  these 
three,  a  civil  war  commenced,  and  Antony,  defeated  at  the  battle  of  Actium, 
fled  to  Egypt,  and  killed  himself,  B.  C.  30. 

t  Lu})ercal,  a  feast  among  the  Romans, 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  295 

You  all  did  love  him  once  ;  not  without,  cause  ; 
What  cause  withholds  you  then  to  mourn  for  him  ? 
O  judgment !  Thou  art  fled  to  brutish  beasts, 
And  men  have  lost  their  reason.     Bear  with  me  : 
My  heart  is  in  the  coffin  there  with  Cesar  ; 
And  I  must  pause  till  it  come  back  to  me.' 

6.  But  yesterday,  the  word  of  Cesar  might 
Have  stood  against  the  world  !  now  lies  he  there, 
And  none  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence. 

0  masters !  If  I  were  dispos'd  to  stir 
Your  hearts  and  minds  to  mutiny  and  rage, 

1  should  do  Brutus  wrong,  and  Cassius  wrong ; 
Who,  you  all  know,  are  honorable  men. 

I  will  not  do  them  wrong — I  rather  choose 
To  wrong  the  dead,  to  wrong. myself  and  you, 
Than  I  will  wron^  such  honorable  men. 

7.  But  here's  a  parchment,  with  the  seal  of  Cesar ; 
I  found  it  in  his  closet :  'tis  his  will. 

Let  but  the  commons  hear  this  testament, 
(Which,  pardon  me,  I  do  not  mean  to  read) 
And  they  would  go  and  kiss  dead  Cesar's  wounds, 
And  dip  their  napkins  in  his  sacred  blood — 
Yea,  beg  a  hair  of  him  for  memory, 
And  dying,  mention  it  within  their  wills, 
Bequeathing  it,  as  a  rich  legacy, 
Unto  their  issue. — 

8.  If  you  have  tears,  prepare  to  shed  them  now. 
You  all  do  know  this  mantle  :  I  remember 

The  first  time  ever  Cesar  put  it  on  ; 
'Twas  on  a  summer's  evening  in  his  tent, 

That  day  he  overcame  the  Nervii* 

Look !  in  this  place  ran  Cassius'  dagger  through 

See  what  a  rent  the  envious  Casca  made 

Through  this  the  well  beloved  Brutus  stabb'd ; 
And  as  he  pluck'd  his  cursed  steel  away, 
Mark  how  the  blood  of  Cesar  foUow'd  it ! 

9.  This,  this  was  the  unkindest  cut  of  all. 
For  when  the  noble  Cesar  saw  him  stab, 
Ingratitude,  more  strong  than  traitor's  arms. 

Quite  vanquish'd  him  !  Then  burst  his  mighty  heart, 
And  in  his  mantle  muffling  up  his  face, 

*  Pronounced  IN  er-ve-i,  a  warlike  people  of  Gaul,  whom  Cesar  attacked 
and  totally  defeated. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

E'en  at  the  base  of  Pompey's  statue, 

(Which  all  the  while  ran  blood,)  great  Cesar  fell. 

10.  O  what  a  fall  was  there,  my  countrymen ! 
Then  I,  and  you,  and  all  of  us,  fell  down  ! 
Whilst  bloody  treason  flourish'd  over  us. 

O,  now  you  weep  ;  and  I  perceive  you  feel 
The  dint  of  pity  ;  These  are  gracious  drops. 
Kind  souls  !  What,  weep  you  when  you  but  behold 
Our  Cesar's  vesture  wounded  ?  Look  you  here  ! — 
Here  is  himself — marr'd,  as  you  see,  by  traitors. 

11.  Good  friends  !  Sweet  friends  !  Let  me  not  stir  you  up 
To  such  a  sudden  flood  of  mutiny ! 

They  that  have  done  this  deed  arc  honorable ! 
What  private  griefs  they  have,  alas,  I  know  not, 
That  made  them  do  it !  They  are  wise  and  honorable, 
And  will,  no  doubt,  with  reason  answer  you. 

12.  I  come  not,  friends,  to  steal  away  your  hearts! 
I  am  no  orator,  as  Brutus  is  ; 

But,  as  you  know  me  all,  a  plain,  blunt  man, 
That  love  my  friend — and  that  they  knew  full  well, 
That  gave  me  public  leave  to  s])eak.  of  him ! 
For  I  have  neither  v/it,  nor  words,  nor  worth, 
Action,  nor  utterance,  nor  power  of  speech. 
To  stir  men's  blood. 

13.  I  only  speak  right  on, 

I  tell  you  that  which  you  yourselves  do  know — 

Show  you  sweet  Cesar's  wounds,  poor,  poor  dumb  mouths, 

And  bid  them  speak  for  me.     But,  were  I  Brutus, 

And  Brutus  Antony,  there  were  an  Antony 

Would  rullle  up  your  spirits,  and  put  a  tongue 

In  every  wound  of  Cesar,  that  should  move 

The  stones  of  Rome  to  rise  and  nuitiny. 


LESSON  CLL 

Othello's  Apology  for  his  Marriaa^c. — Tragedy  of  Othello 

1.  Most  potent,  grave  and  reverend  seigniors: 
My  very  noble  and  approv'd  good  masters  : 
That  I  have  ta'en  away  this  old  man's  daughter. 
It  is  moi-i  true ;  true,  I  have  married  her: 
The  very  head  and  front  of  my  oflbnding 
Hath  this  extent ;  no  more. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  297 

2.  Rude  am  I  in  speech, 
And  little  bless'd  with  the  set  phrase  of  peace : 
For  since  these  arms  of  mine  had  seven  years'  pith, 
Till  now,  some  nine  moons  wasted,  they  have  us'd 
Their  dearest  action  in  the  tented  field  ; 

And  little  of  this  great  world  can  I  speakj " 

More  than  pertains  to  feats  of  broils  and  battle ; 

And  therefore,  little  shall  I  grace  my  cause, 

In  speaking  of  myself.     Yet  by  your  patience, 

I  will  a  round  un^arnish'd  tale  deliver, 

Of  my  whole  course  of  love  ;  what  drugs,  what  charms, 

What  conjuration,  and  what  mighty  magic, 

(For  such  proceedings  I  am  charg'd  withal) 

I  won  his  daughter  with. 

3.  Her  father  lov'd  me ;  oft  invited  me ; 
Still  question'd  me  the  story  of  my  life 

From  year  to  year :  the  battles,  sieges,  fortunes, 

That  r  had  past. 

I  ran  it  through,  e'en  from  my  boyish  days 

To  the  very  moment  that  he  bade  me  tell  it. 

Wherein  I  spake  of  most  disastrous  chances : 

Of  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field : 

Of  hair  breadths  'scapes  in  the  imminent  deadly  breach : 

Of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe, 

And  sold  to  slavery;  of  my  redemption  thence, 

And  with  it  all  my  travel's  history. 

4. All  these  to  hear 

Would  Desdemona  seriously  incline  ; 
Rut  sUll  the  house  afiairs  would  draw^  her  thence ; 
Which  ever  as  she  could  with  haste  despatch, 
She'd  come  again,  and  with  a  greedy  ear 
Devour  up  my  discourse.    Which  I  observing. 
Took  once  a  pliant  hour,  and  found  good  means 
To  draw  from  her  a  prayer  of  earnest  heart, 
That  I  would  all  my  pilgrimage  dilate ; 
Whereof  by  parcels  she  had  something  heard. 
But  not  distinctly. 

5.  I  did  consent ; 

And  often  did  beguile  her  of  her  tears, 
When  I  did  speak  of  some  distressful  stroke 
That  my  youth  sufTer'd.     My  story  being  done, 
She  gave  me  for  my  pains  a  world  of  sighs. 
She  swore  in  faith,  'twas  strange,  'twas  passing  strange; 
'Twas  pitiful ;  'twas  wond'rous  pitiful ; 


298  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

She  wishM  she  had  not  heard  it ;  yet  she  wish'd 
That  heaven  had  made  her  such  a  man. 

6.  She  thank'd  me, 

And  bade  me,  if  I  had  a  friend  that  lov'd  her, 
I  should  but  teach  him  how  to  tell  my  story, 
And  that  would  woo  her.     On  this  hint  I  spake ; 
She  lov'd  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  pass'd ; 
And  I  lov'd  her,  that  she  did  pity  them. 
This  is  the  only  witchcraft  which  I've  us'd. 


LESSON  CLII. 

Soliloquy  of  Hamlet*  on  Death. Tragedy  of  Hamlet. 

1.  To  be — or  not  to  be—that  is  the  question, 
Whether  'tis  nobler  in  the  mind  to  suffer 

The  stings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune — 
Or  to  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  trouble, 
And,  by  opposing,  end  them  ?  To  die — to  sleep — 
No  more  ?     And,  by  a  sleep,  to  say  we  end 
The  heart-achej  and  the  thousand  natural  shocks 
That  flesh  is  heir  to. 

2.  'Tis  a  consummation 
Devoutly  to  be  wish'd. — To  die — to  sleep — 

To  sleep,  perchance  to  dream — ay,  there's  the  rub — 
For,  in  that  sleep  of  death,  what  dreams  may  come, 
When  we  ha^e  shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil, 
Must  give  us  pause. 

3.  There's  the  respect. 
That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life  ; 

For,  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  time, 
Th'  oppressor's  wrong,  the  proud  man's  contumely, 
The  pangs  of  despis'd  love — the  law's  delay — 
The  insolence  of  office,  and  the  spurns 
That  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes — 
When  he  himself  might  his  quietusf  make 
With  a  bare  bodkin. 

4.  Who  would  fardelsj  bear, 
To  groan  and  sweat  under  a  weary  life. 
But  that  the  dread  of  something  after  death, 
(That  undiscover'd  country,  from  whose  bourn 

No  traveller  returns)  puzzles  the  will, 


♦  A  Prince  of  Denmark.  t  auittus,  rest,  repose 

X  Fardel,  a  bundle,  or  little  pack. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  299 

And  makes  us  rather  bear  those  ills  we  have, 
Than  jfiy  to  others  that  we  know  not  of? 

5.  Thus  conscience  does  make  cowards  of  us  all ; 
And  thus  the  native  hue  of  resolution 
Is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought ; 
And  enterprises  of  great  pith  and  moment, 
"With  this  regard,  their  currents  turn  away, 
And  lose  the  name  of  action. 


LESSON  CLIII. 

Cato^s*  Soliloquy  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul. — Tragedy 

OF  Cato. 

1.  It  must  be  so — Plato,t  thou  reasonest  well ! 
Else,  whence  this  pleasing  hop6,  this  fond  desire, 
This  longing  after  immortality  ? 

Or,  whence  this  secret  dread,  and  inward  horror, 
■Of  falling  into  nought  ?  Why  shrinks  the  soul 
Back  on  herself,  and  startles  at  destruction  ? 
'Tis  the  divinity  that  stirs  within  us : 
'Tis  heaven  itself  that  points  out  an  hereafter, 
And  intimates  Eternity  to  man. 

2.  Eternity  ! — thou  pleasing,  dreadful  thought ! 
Through  what  variety  of  untried  being. 

Through  what  new  scenes  and  changes  must  we  pass  ? 
The  wide,  th'  unbounded  prospect  lies  before  me : 
But  shadows,  clouds  and  darkness  rest  upon  it. 
Here  will  I  hold.     If  there's  a  Power  above  us, 
(And  that  there  is,  all  nature  cries  aloud 
Through  all  her  works,)  he  must  delight  in  virtue ; 
And  that  which  he  delights  in  must  be  happy. 
But  when  ?  Or  where  ?  This  world  was  made  for  Cesar. 

I'm  weary  of  conjectures this  must  end  them. 

[Laying  his  hand  on  his  sword* 

*  Marcus  Fortius  Cato,  an  eminent  Roman,  born  94  years  B,  C.  He 
was  a  lover  of  Phiilosopiiy,  and  a  brave  general ;  a  man  of  great  integrity, 
and  strong  attachment  to  his  country.  He  boldly  opposed  the  conspiracy  of 
Catiline,  and  the  ambition  of  Julius  Cesar.  After  the  battle  of  Pharsalia, 
Cato  fled  to  Utica,  in  Africa,  and  being  pursued  by  Cesar,  he  advised  his 
friends  to  flee,  and  his  son  to  trust  to  Cesar's  clemency.  He  then  retired  to 
his  apartment,  and  read  Plato  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul,  twice 
over ;  and  then  stabbed  himself  with  his  sword,  and  died,  aged  48 — B.  C. 
46  years. 

t  A  Grecian  Philosopher. 


300  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

3.  Thus  I  am  doubly  arm'd.     My  death*  and  life,t 
My  bane*  and  antidotef  are  both  before  me. 
This*  in  a  moment  brings  me  to  an  end ; 
But  thisf  informs  me  I  shall  never  die. 
The  soul,  secur'd  in  her  existence,  smiles 
At  the  drawn  dagger,  and  defies  its  point. 
The  stars  shall  fade  away,  the  sun  himself 
Grow  dim  with  age,  and  nature  sink  in  years : 
But  thou  shalt  flourish  in  immortal  youth  : 
Unhurt  amidst  the  war  of  elements, 
The  wreck  of  matter,  and  the  crush  of  worlds. 


LESSON  CLIV. 

Speech  of  CatilineX  before  the  Roman  Senate,  on  hearing-  his 
sentence  of  hanishrnent. — Croly's  Catiline. 

\.  "Banished  from  Rome!" — what's  banished,  but  set  free 
From  daily  contact  of  the  things  I  loathe? 
"  Tried  and  convicted  traitor  !" — Who  says  this? 
Who'll  prove  it,  at  his  peril,  on  my  head  ? 
"  Banished  ?" — I  thank  you  for't.     It  breaks  my  chain  ! 
I  held  some  slack  allegiance  till  this  hour — 
But  now  my  sword's  my  own.     Smile  on,  my  lords ; 
I  scorn  to  count  what  feelings,  withered  hopes, 
Strong  provocations,  bitter,  burning  wrongs, 
I  have  within  my  heart's  hot  cells  shut  up, 
To  leave  you  in  your  lazy  dignities. 

2.  But  liere  I  stand  and  scoff  you  : — here  I  fling 
Hatred  and  full  defiance  in  your  face. 

Your  Consul'sll  merciful.     For  this  all  thanks. 

He  dares  not  touch  a  hair  of  Catiline. 

"  Traitor !"  I  go — but  I  retvrn.     This — trial ! 

Here  I  devote  your  senate  !  I've  had  wrongs, 

To  stir  a  fever  in  the  blood  of  age. 

Or  make  the  infant's  sinew  strong  as  steel. 

3.  Tliis  day's  the  birth  of  sorrows  ! — This  hour's  work 
Will  breed  proscriptions. — Look  to  your  hearths,  my  lords, 
For  there  henceforth  shall  sit,  for  household  gods, 
Shapes  hot  from  Tartarus  ! — all  shames  and  cranes  ; — 

♦  The  sword.  t  A  book  written  by  Plato. 

t  A  Roman  Senator  accused  of  a  conspiracy  against  the  government,  and 
banished. 
U  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  301 

Wan  Treachery,  with  his  thirsty  dagger  drawn 
Suspicion,  poisoning  his  brother's  cup  ; 
Naked  RebelHon,  with  the  torch  and  axe, 
Making  his  wild  sport  of  your  blazing  thrones ; 
Till  Anarchy  comes  down  on  you  like  Night, 
And  Massacre  seals  Rome's  eternal  grave. 


LESSON  CLV. 

The  Rich  Man  and  the  Poor  Man. — Khemnitzer. 

L  So  goes  the  world  ; — if  wealthy,  you  may  call 
This — friend,  that — brother  ;  friends  and  brothers  all 
Though  you  arc  Avorthless — witless — never  mind  it; 
You  may  have  been  a  stable  boy — what  then  ? 
'Tis  wealth,  good  Sir,  makes  honorable  men. 
You  seek  respect,  no  doubt,  and  you  will  find  it. 

2.  But  if  you  are  poor,  heaven  help  you !  though  your  sire 
Had  royal  blood  within  him,  and  though  you 

Possess  the  intellect  of  angels  too, 
'Tis  all  in  vain  ; — the  world  will  ne'er  inquire 
On  such  a  score  : — Why  should  it  take  the  pains  ? 
'Tis  easier  to  weigh  purses,  sure,  than  brains. 

3.  I  once  saw  a  poor  fellow,  keen  and  clever, 
Witty  and  wdse  : — he  paid  a  man  a  visit, 

And  no  one  noticed  him,  and  no  one  ever 

Gave  him  a  welcome.    "Strange,"  cried  I;" whence  is  it?" 

He  walked  on  this  side,  then  on  that, 

He  tried  to  introduce  a  social  chat ; 
Now  here,  now  there,  in  vain  he  tried  ; 
Some  formally  and  freezingly  replied, 

And  some 
Said  by  their  silence — "  Better  stay  at  home." 

4.  A  rich  man  burst  the  door, 
As  Croesus*  rich,  I'm  sure 

He  could  not  pride  himself  upon  his  wit ; 
And  as  for  wisdom,  he  had  none  of  it ; 
He  had  what's  better  ; — he  had  wealth. 
What  a  confusion  ! — all  stand  up  erect — 


•  Pronounced  Cre-zus,  a  king  of  Lydia,  in  Asia  Minor,  548  B.  C,  fUp- 
posed  the  richest  of  mankind. 

26 


302  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

These  crowd  around  to  ask  him  of  his  health ; 

These  bow  in  honest  duty  and  respect ; 
And  these  arrange  a  sofa  or  a  chair, 
And  these  conduct  him  there. 
"  Allow  me,  Sir,  the  honor ;" — Then  a  bow 
Down  to  the  earth — Is't  possible  to  show 
Meet  gratitude  for  such  kind  condescension  ? 

5.  The  poor  man  hung  his  head, 

And  to  himself  he  said, 
"  This  is  indeed  beyond  my  comprehension :" 

Then  looking  round, 

One  friend  J  y  face  he  found. 
And  said — "  Pray  tell  me  why  is  wealth  preferr'd 
To  wisdom  ?" — "  That's  a  silly  question,  friend  !" 
Replied  the  other — "  haA^e  you  never  heard, 

A  man  may  lend  his  store 

Of  gold  or  silver  ore, 
But  wisdom  none  can  borrow,  none  can  lend  ?" 


LESSON  CLVI. 

Address  to  the  Ocean. — Lord  Byron. 

L  There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods, 
There  is  a  rapture  on  the  lonely  shore, 
There  is  society,  where  none  intrudes, 
By  the  deep  Sea,  and  music  in  its  roar  : 
I  love  not  Man  ihe  less,  but  Nature  more. 
From  these  our  interviews,  in  which  I  steal 
From  all  I  may  be,  or  have  been  before. 
To  mingle  with  the  Universe,  and  feel 

What  I  can  ne'er  express,  yet  cannot  all  conceal. 

2.  Roll  on,  thou  deep  and  dark  blue  ocean, — roll ! 
Ten  thousand  fleets  sweep  over  thee  in  vain ; 
Man  marks  the  earth  with  ruin — his  control 
Stops  with  the  shore ; — upon  the  watery  plain 
The  wrecks  are  all  thy  deed,  nor  doth  remain 
A  shadow  of  man's  ravage,  save  his  own, 
When,  for  a  moment,  like  a  drop  of  rain. 
He  sinks  into  thy  depths  with  bubbling  groan. 

Without  a  grave,  unknell'd,  uncoffin'd,  and  unknown. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  303 

3.  His  steps  are  not  upon  thy  paths, — thy  tields 
Are  not  a  spoil  for  him, — thou  dost  arise 

And  shake  him  from  thee ;  the  vile  strength  he  wields 
For  earth's  destruction  thou  dost  all  despise, 
Spurning  him  from  thy  bosom  to  the  skies, 
And  send'st  him  shivering,  in  thy  playful  spray, 
And  howling  to  his  gods,  where  haply  lies 
His  petty    hope  in  some  near  port  or  bay, 
Tlien  dashest  him  again  to  earth : — there  let  him  lay, 

4.  The  armaments  which  thunderstrike  the  walls 
Of  rock-built  cities,  bidding  nations  quake, 
And  monarchs  tremble  in  their  capitals, 

The  oak  leviathans,  whose  huge  ribs  make 
Their  clay  creator  the  vain  title  take 
Of  lord  of  thee,  and  arbiter  of  war  ! 
These  are  thy  toys,  and  as  the  snowy  flake, 
They  melt  into  thy  yeast  of  waves,  which  mar 
Alike  the  Armada's*  pride,  or  spoils  of  Trafalgar.! 

5.  Thy  shores  are  empires,  changed  in  all  save  thee — 
Assyria,  Greece,  Rome,  Carthage,  what  are  they ! 
Thy  waters  wasted  them  while  they  were  free, 
And  many  a  tyrant  since ;  their  shores  obey 

The  stranger,  slave,  or  savage ;  their  decay 
Has  dried  up  realms  to  deserts  : — not  so  thou, 
Unchangeable  save  to  thy  wild  waves'  play — 
Time  writes  no  wrinkle  on  thine  azure  brow — 
Such  as  creation's  dawn  beheld,  thou  roUest  now. 

6.  Thou,  glorious  mirror,  where  the  Almighty's  form 
Glasses  itself  in  tempests  ;  in  all  time, 

(Calm  or  convulsed,  in  breeze,  or  gale,  or  storm, 
Icing  the  pole,  or  in  the  torrid  clime 
Dark-heaving,) — boundless,  endless,  and  sublime — 
The  image  of  Eternity — the  throne 
Of  the  Invisible  ;  even  from  out  thy  slime 
The  monsters  of  the  deep  are  made ;  each  zone 
Obeys  thee  ;  thou  goest  forth,  dread,  fathomless,  alone. 

*  Ar-nia-da,  a  fleet  of  armed  ships.  The  term  is  usually  applied  to  the 
Spanish  fleet,  called  the  Invincible  Armada,  consisting  of  130  ships,  in- 
tended to  act  against  England  in  1588,  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth. 

t  Gape  Traf-al-gar,  on  the  southwestern  coast  of  Spain.  Off  this  Cape, 
on  the  21st  of  October,  1805,  was  obtained  the  celebrated  victory  of  the 
British  fleet,  commanded  by  Lord  Nelson,  over  the  corqbined  fleets  of 
France  and  Spain.     Lord  Nelson  lost  his  life  in  the  action,  aged  47  years. 


304  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

7.  And  I  have  loved  thee,  Ocean !  and  my  joy 
Of  youthful  sports  was  on  thy  breast  to  be 
Borne,  like  thy  bubbles,  onward :  from  a  boy 
I  wanton' d  with  thy  breakers — they  to  me 
Were  a  delight ;  and  if  the  freshening  sea 
Made  them  a  terror — 'twas  a  pleasing  fear, 
For  I  was  as  it  were  a  child  of  thee, 
And  trusted  to  thy  billows  far  and  near. 
And  laid  my  hand  upon  thy  mane — as  I  do  here. 


LESSON  CLVIL 

Wisdo7n. — PoLLOK. 

1.  Wisdom  is  humble,  said  the  voice  of  God. 
*Tis  proud,  the  Avorld  replied.     Wisdom,  said  God, 
Forgives,  forbears,  and  suffers,  not  for  fear 

Of  man,  but  God.     Wisdom  revenges,  said 
The  world,  is  quick  and  deadly  of  resentment. 
Thrusts  at  the  very  shadov/  of  affront, 
And  hastes,  by  death,  to  wipe  its  honor  clean. 

2.  Wisdom,  said  God,  loves  enemies,  entreats, 
Solicits,  begs  for  peace.     Wisdom, replied 

The  world,  hates  enemies,  will  not  ask  peace, 
Conditions  spurns,  and  triumphs  in  their  fall. 
Wisdom  mistrusts  itself,  and  leans  on  Heaven, 
Said  God.     It  trusts  and  leans  upon  itself, 
The  world  replied. 

3.  Wisdom  retires,  said  God, 
And  counts  it  bravery  to  bear  reproach 
And  shame,  and  lowly  poverty,  upright ; 

And  weeps  Avith  all  who  have  just  cause  to  weep. 
Wisdom,  replied  the  world,  struts  forth  to  gaze, 
Treads  the  broad  stage  of  life  with  clamorous  foot, 
Attracts  all  praises,  counts  it  bravery 
Alone  to  wield  the  sword,  and  rush  on  death ; 
And  never  weeps,  but  for  its  own  disgrace. 

4.  Wisdom,  said  Cod,  is  highest,  when  it  stoops 
Lowest  before  the  Holy  Throne ;  throws  down 
Its  crown,  abased  ;  forgets  itself,  admires. 

And  breathes  adoring  praise.     There  Wisdom  stoops, 
Indeed,  the  world  replied,  there  stoops,  because 
It  must,  but  stoops  with   dignity  ;  and  thinks 
And  meditates  the  while  of  inward  worth. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  305 

LESSON   CLVIII. 

Tke  Inhumanity  of  Slavery. — Cowper. 

1.  Oh,  for  a  lodge  in  some  vast  wilderness, 
Some  boundless  contiguity  of  shade, 
Where  rumor  of  oppression  and  deceit, 

Of  unsuccessful  or  successful  war. 

Might  never  reach  me  more  !  My  ear  is  painM, 

My  soui  is  sick  with  every  day's  report 

Of  wrong  and  outrage  with  which  earth  is  fill*d. 

There  is  no  flesh  in  man's  obdurate  heart ; 

It  does  not  feel  for  man.     The  nat'ral  bond 

Of  brotherhood  is  sever'd  as  the  flax 

That  falls  asunder  at  the  touch  of  fire. 

2.  He  finds  his  fellow  guilty  of  a  skin 
Not  color' d  like  his  own  ;  and  having  pow'r 
T'  enforce  the  wrong,  for  such  a  worthy  cause 
Dooms  and  devotes  him  as  his  lawful  prey. 
Lands  intersected  by  a  narrow  frith 

Abhor  each  other.     Mountains  interposM, 
Make  enemies  of  nations,  who  had  else, 
Like  kindred  drops,  been  mingled  into  one. 

3.  Thus  man  devotes  his  brother,  and  destroys: 
And  worse  than  all,  and  most  to  be  deplor'd, 

As  human  nature's  broadest,  foulest  blot, 
Chains  him  and  tasks  him,  and  exacts  his  sweat 
"With  stripes,  that  mercy,  with  a  bleeding  heart. 
Weeps  M'hen  she  sees  inflicted  on  a  beast. 

4.  Then  what  is  man  !  And  what  man  seeing  this. 
And  having  human  feelings,  does  not  blush 

And  hang  his  head,  to  think  himself  a  man  ? 
I  would  not  have  a  slave  to  till  my  ground, 
To  carry  me,  to  fan  me  while  I  sleep. 
And  tremble  when  I  wake,  for  all  the  wealth 
That  sinews  bought  and  sold  have  ever  earn'd. 

5.  No :  dear  as  freedom  is,  and  in  my  heart's 
Just  estimation  pris'd  above  all  price ; 

I  had  much  rather  be  myself  the  slave, 
And  wear  the  bonds,  than  fasten  them  on  him. 
We  have  no  slaves  at  home — then  why  abroad  ? 
And  they  themselves  once  ferried  o'er  the  wave 
That  parts  us,  are  emancipate  and  loos'd. 

6.  Slaves  cannot  breathe  in  England  :  if  their  lungs 
Receive  her  air,  that  moment  they  are  free ; 

26* 


306  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

They  touch  our  country,  and  their  shackles  fall. 
That's  noble,  and  bespeaks  a  nation  proud 
And  jealous  of  the  blessing.     Spread  it  then, 
And  let  it  circulate  through  ev'ry  vein 
Of  all  your  empire  :  that  where  Britain's  power 
Is  felt,  mankind  may  feel  her  mercy  too. 


LESSON  CLIX. 

Tlie  Cuckoo. — Logan. 

1.  Hail,  beauteous  stranger  of  the  wood, 

Attendant  on  the  spring  ! 
Now  heav'n  repairs  thy  rural  seat. 
And  woods  thy  welcome  sing, 

2.  Soon  as  the  daisy  decks  the  green. 

Thy  certain  voice  we  hear  : 
Hast  thou  a  star  to  guide  thy  path. 
Or  mark  the  rolling  year  ? 

3.  Delightful  visitant !  with  thee 

I  hail  the  time  of  flow'rs, 
When  heav'n  is  fill'd  with  music  sweet 
Of  birds  among  tlie  bow'rs. 

4.  The  school-boy  wand'ring  in  the  wood, 

To  pull  the  flow'rs  so  gay, 
Starts,  thy  curious  voice  to  hear, 
And  imitates  thy  lay. 

3.  Soon  as  the  pea  puts  on  the  bloom. 
Thou  fly'st  the  vocal  vale. 
An  annual  guest  in  other  lands. 
Another  spring  to  hail. 

6.  Sweet  bird,  thy  bow'r  is  ever  green. 

Thy  sky  is  ever  clear ; 
Thou  hast  no  sorrow  in  thy  song. 
No  winter  in  thy  year  ! 

7.  O  could  I  fly,  I'd  fly  with  thee ; 

We'd  make,  with  social  wing. 
Our  annual  visit  o'er  the  globe. 
Companions  of  the  spring. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  307 

LESSON  CLX. 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem. — J.  G.  Percival. 

1.  Brighter  than  the  rising  day, 

When  the  sim  of  glory  shines  ; 
Brighter  than  the  diamond's  ray, 

Sparkhng  in  Golconda's*  mines ; 
Beaming  through  the  clouds  of  wo, 

Smiles  in  Mercy's  diadem 
On  the  guilty  world  below. 

The  star  that  rose  in  Bethlehem. 

2.  When  our  eyes  are  dimmed  Avith  tears. 

This  can  light  them  up  again, 
Sweet  as  music  to  our  ears, 

Faintly  warbling  o'er  the  plain. 
Never  shines  a  ray  so  bright 

From  the  purest  earthly  gem ; 
O  !  there  is  no  soothing  light 

Like  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

3.  Grief's  dark  clouds  may  o'er  us  roll, 

Every  heart  may  sink  in  wo. 
Gloomy  conscience  rack  the  soul. 

And  sorrow's  tears  in  torrents  flow  ; 
Still,  through  all  these  clouds  and  storms. 

Shines  this  purest  heavenly  gem, 
With  a  ray  that  kindly  warms — 

The  Star  that  rose  in  Bethlehem. 

4.  When  we  cross  the  roaring  wave 

That  rolls  on  life's  remotest  shore  ; 
When  we  look  into  the  grave, 

And  wander  through  this  world  no  more  ; 
This,  the  lamp  whose  genial  ray, 

Like  some  brightly-glowing  gem, 
Points  to  man  his  darkling  way — 

The  Star  that  rose  in  Bethlehem. 

5.  Let  the  world  be  sunk  in  sorrow. 

Not  an  eye  be  charmed  or  bless'd ; 
We  can  see  a  fair  to-morrow 
Smiling  in  the  rosy  west ; 

*  A  province  in  Hindoostan,  now  called  Hyderabad,  formerly  celebrated 
for  its  diamond  mines. 


308  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

This,  her  beacon,  Hope  displays  ; 

For,  in  Mercy's  diadem. 
Shines,  with  Faith's  serenest  rays, 

The  Star  tliat  rose  in  Bethlehem. 

6.  When  this  gloomy  life  is  o'er. 

When  we  smile  in  bliss  above. 
When,  on  that  delightful  shore, 

We  enjoy  the  heaven  of  love, — 
O  !  what  dazzling  hght  shall  shine 

Round  salvation's  purest  gem  ! 
O  !  what  rays  of  love  divine 

Gild  the  Star  of  Bethlehem ! 


LESSON  CLXL 

The  Last  Man. — Campbell. 

All  worldly  shapes  shall  melt  in  gloom : 

The  sun  itself  shdXX  die. 
Before  this  mortal  shall  assume 

Its  immortality. 

2. 1  saw  a  vision  in  my  sleep, 

That  gave  my  spirit  strength  to  sweep 

Ad  own  the  gulf  of  time  ; 
I  saw  the  last  of  human  mould, 
That  shall  creation's  death  behold, 

As  Adam  saw  the  prime. 

3.  The  sun's  eye  had  a  sickly  glare  ; 

The  earth  with  age  was  \van ; 
The  skeletons  of  nations  were 

Around  that  lonely  man. 
Some  had  expir'd  in  fight :  the  brands 
Still  rested  in  their  bony  hands  ; 

In  plague  and  famine,  some  ; 
Earth's  cities  had  no  sound,  no  tread ; 
And  ships  were  drifting  with  their  dead, 

To  shores  where  all  was  dumb. 

4.  Yet,  prophet  like,  the  lone  one  stood. 

With  dauntless  words  and  high, 
That  shook  the  sere  leaves  from  the  wood 
As  if  a  storm  pass'd  by, 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  309 

Saying,  we're  twins  in  death,  proud  sun, 
Thy  face  is  cold,  thy  race  is  run, 

Mere  Mercy  bids  thee  go. 
For  thou,  ten  thousand  thousand  years. 
Hast  seen  the  tide  of  human  tears, 

That  shall  no  longer  flow. 

6.  What,  though  beneath  thee,  man  put  forth 

His  pomp,  his  pride,  his  skill ; 
And  arts  that  made  wood,  fire,  and  earth, 

The  vassals  of  his  will ; 
Yet  mourn  I  not  thy  parted  sway, 
Thou  dim,  discrowned  king  of  day ; 

For  all  those  trophied  arts 
And  triumphs  that  beneath  thee  sprang, 
Heal'd  not  a  passion  or  a  pang 

Entail'd  on  hOman  hearts. 

6.  Go,  let  oblivion's  curtain  fall 

Upon  the  stage  of  men ; 
Nor  with  thy  rising  beams  recall 

Life's  tragedy  again. 
Its  motley  pageants  bring  not  back, 
Nor  waken  flesh,  upon  the  rack 

Of  pain,  anew  to  writhe  : 
Stretch'd  in  disease's  shapes  abhorr'd, 
Or  mown  in  battle  by  the  sword, 

Like  grass  beneath  the  scythe. 

7  E'en  I  am  weary,  in  yon  skies, 

To  watch  thy  fading  fire ; 
Test  of  all  sumless  agonies, 

Behold  not  me  expire. 
My  lips  that  speak  thy  dirge  of  death; 
Their  rounded  gasp  and  gurgling  breath, 

To  see  thou  shalt  not  boast. 
The  eclipse  of  nature  spreads  my  pall. 
The  majesty  of  darkness  shall 

Receive  my  parting  ghost. 

8.  This  spirit  shall  return  to  him, 
That  gave  its  heavenly  spark  ; 
Yet  think  not,  sun,  it  shall  be  dim 

When  thou  thyself  art  dark. 
No  ;  it  shall  live  again,,  and  shine 
In  bliss  unknown  to  beams  of  thine. 


310  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

By  Him  recall'd  to  breath, 
Who  captive  led  captivity  ; 
Who  robb'd  the  grave  of  victory, 

And  pluck'd  the  sting  of  death. 

9.  Go  sun,  while  mercy  holds  me  up 

On  nature's  awful  waste, 
To  drink  this  last,  this  bitter  cup 

Of  grief  that  man  shall  taste  ; 
Go,  tell  the  night  that  hides  thy  face, 
Thou  saw'st  the  last  of  Adam's  race. 

On  earth's  sepulchral  clod. 
The  dark'ning  universe  defy 
To  quench  his  immortality, 

Or  shake  his  trust  in  God. 


LESSON  CLXIL 

* 

Picture  of  a  Good  Man. — Young. 

1.  Some  angel  guide  my  pencil,  while  I  draw, 
What  nothing  else  than  angol  can  exceed, 

A  man  on  earth  devoted  to  the  skies ; 
Like  ships  at  sea,  while  in,  above  the  vt^orld. 
With  aspect  mild,  and  elevated  eye, 
Behold  him  seated  on  a  mount  serene, 
Above  the  fogs  of  sense,  and  passion's  storm ; 
All  the  black  cares,  and  tumults  of  this  life, 
Like  harmless  thunders,  breaking  at  his  feet. 
Excite  his  pity,  not  impair  his  peace. 

2.  Earth's  genuine  sons,  the  sceptred,  and  the  slave, 
A  mingled  mob  !  a  wand'rinij  herd  !  he  sees, 
Bewilder'd  i)i  the  vale  ;  in  all  unlike  ; 

His  full  reverse  in  all  !   What  higher  praise  ? 
What  stronger  demonstration  of  the  ridU? 
The  present  all  their  care ;   the  future  nis  ; 
When  public  welfare  calls,  or  private  want. 
They  give  to  fame  ;  his  bounty  he  conceals. 
T'heir  virtues  varnish  nature ;  his  exalt. 
Mankind's  esteem  they  court ;  and  he  his  own. 

3.  Theirs  the  wild  chase  of  false  felicities  ; 
His,  the  composed  possession  of  the  true. 
Alike  throughout  is  his  consistent  piece, 

All  of  one  color,  and  an  even  thread ; 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  311 

While  party-col or'd  shreds  of  happiness, 
With  hideous  gaps  between,  patch  up  for  them 
A  madman's  robe  ;  each  puff  of  fortune  blows 
Their  tatters  by,  and  shows  their  nakedness. 

4.  He  sees  with  other  eyes  than  theirs  ;  where  they 
Behold  a  sun,  he  spies  a  Deity ; 

What  makes  them  only  smile,  makes  him  adore. 
Where  they  see  mountains,  he  but  atoms  sees ; 
An  empire,  in  his  balance,  weighs  a  grain. 
They  things  terrestrial  worship  as  divine : 
His  hopes  immortal  blow  them  by,  as  dust. 
That  dims  his  sight  and  shortens  his  survey, 
Which  longs,  in  infinite,  to  lose  all  bound. 

5.  Titles  and  honors  (if  they  prove  his  fate) 
He  lays  aside  to  find  his  dignity ; 

No  dignity  they  find  in  aught  besides. 
They  triumph  in  externals,  (which  conceal 
Man's  real  glory,)  proud  of  an  eclipse  : 
Himself  too  much  he  prizes  to  be  proud ; 
And  nothing  thinks  so  great  in  man,  as  man. 
Too  dear  he  holds  his  int'rest,  to  neglect 
Another's  welfare,  or  his  right  invade  ; 
Their  int'rest,  like  a  lion,  lives  on  prey. 

6.  They  kindle  at  the  shadow  of  a  wrong ; 
Wrong  he  sustains  with  temper,  looks  on  heav'n, 
Nor  stoops  to  think  his  injurer  his  foe. 

Nought,  but  what  wounds  his  virtue,  wounds  his  peace. 
A  cover'd  heart  their  character  defends  ; 
A  cover'd  heart  denies  him  half  his  praise. 

7.  With  nakedness  his  innocence  agrees  ! 
While  their  broad  foliage  testifies  their  fall ! 
Their  no-joys  end,  where  his  full  feast  begins : 
His  joys  create,  their's  murder,  future  bliss. 
To  triumph  in  existence,  his  alone  ; 

And  his  alone  trium.phantly  to  think 

His  true  existence  is  not  yet  begun. 

His  glorious  course  was,  yesterday,  complete : 

Death,  then,  was  welcome ;  vet  life  still  is  sweet 


LESSON  CLXIH. 

Hymn  on  a  Review  of  the  Seasons. — Thomson. 

1.  These,  as  they  change.  Almighty  Father!  these, 
Are  but  the  varied  God.     The  rolling  year 


312  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Is  full  of  thee.     Forth  in  the  pleasing  spring 
Thy  beauty  Avalks,  thy  tenderness  and  love. 
"Wide  flush  the  fields ;     the  soft'ning  air  is  balm  ; 
Echo  the  mountains  round ;  the  forest  smiles, 
And  ev'ry  sense,  and  ev'ry  heart  is  joy. 

2.  Then  comes  Thy  glory  in  the  summer  months, 
"With  light  and  heat  refulgent.     Then  Thy  sun 
Shoots  full  perfection  thro'  the  swelling  year  ; 

And  oft  Thy  voice  in  dreadful  thunder  speaks  ; 

And  oft  at  dawn,  deep  noon,  or  falling  eve, 

By  brooks  and  groves,  in  hollow-whisp'ring  gales. 

3.  Thy  bounty  shines  in  autumn  unconfin'd, 
And  spreads  a  common  feast  for  all  that  live. 
In  winter,  awful  Thou  !  with  clouds  and  storm 
Around  Thee  thrown,  tempest  o'er  tempest  roll'd. 
Majestic  darkness  !     On  the  whirlwind's  wing 
Riding  sublime,  thou  bidst  the  world  adore  ; 
And  humblest  nature  with  Thy  northern  blast. 

4.  Mysterious  round  !  what  skill,  Avhat  force  divine, 
Deep  felt,  in  these  appear  !  a  simple  train, 

Yet  so  delightful  mix'd,  with  such  kind  art, 
Such  beauty  and  beneficence  combin'd; 
Shade  unperceived,  so  softening  into  shade, 
And  all  so  forming  an  harmonious  whole, 
That  as  they  still  succeed,  they  ravish  still. 

5.  But  wand'ring  oft,  with  brute  unconscious  gaze, 
Man  marks  not  Thee,  marks  not  the  mighty  hand, 
That,  ever  busy,  wheels  the  silent  spheres ; 
Works  in  the  secret  deep ;  shoots,  steaming,  thence 
The  fair  profusion  that  o'erspreads  the  spring ; 
Flings  from  the  sun  direct  the  flaming  day  ; 

Feeds  ev'ry  creature  ;  hurls  the  tempest  forth  ; 
And,  as  on  earth  tliis  grateful  change  revolves, 
With  transport  touches  all  the  springs  of  life. 

6.  Nature,  attend  !  join  every  living  soul. 
Beneath  the  spacious  temple  of  the  sky : 
In  adoration  join  !  and,  ardent,  raise 

One  general  song  ! 

Ye,  chief,*  for  whom  the  whole  creation  smiles. 
At  once  the  head,  the  heart,  and  tongue  of  all, 
Crown  the  great  hynm  ! 

7.  For  me,  when  I  forget  the  darling  theme, 
Whether  the  blossom  blows,  the  summer  ray 

»  The  suiL  " 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  313 

Russets  the  plain  ;  inspiring  autumn  gleams  ; 
Or  winter  rises  in  the  black'ning  east ; 
Be  my  tongue  mute,  may  fancy  paint  no  more, 
And,  dead  to  joy,  forget  my  heart  to  beat ! 

8.  Should  fate  command  me  to  the  farthest  verge 
Of  the  green  earth,  to  distant  barb'rous  climes^ 
Rivers  unknown  to  song ;  where  first  the  sun 
Gilds  Indian  mountains,  or  his  setting  beam 
Flames  on  th'  Atlantic  Isles ;  'tis  nought  to  me ; 
Since  God  is  ever  present,  ever  felt. 

In  the  void  waste  as  in  the  city  full ; 

And  where  h-e  vital  breathes  there  must  be  joy. 

9.  When  e'en  at  last  the  solemn  hour  shall  come. 
And  wing  my  mystic  flight  to  future  worlds, 

I  cheerful  will  obey  ;  there,  with  new  pow'rs, 

Will  rising  wonders  sing :  I  cannot  go 

Where  universal  love  not  smiles  around, 

Sustaining  all  yon  orbs,  and  all  their  suns ; 

From  seeming  evil  still  educing  good. 

And  better  thence  again,  and  better  still, 

In  infinite  progression.     But  1  lose 

Myself  in  him,  in  light  inefiable  ! 

Come  then,  expressive  silence,  muse  his  praise. 


LESSON  CLXIV. 

Questions  and  Answers. — Montgomery. 

Q.  Flowers, — wherefore  do  ye  bloom  ? 
A.  — We  strew  thy  pathway  to  the  tomb. 

Q.  Stars, — wherefore  do  ye  rise  ? 
A.  — To  light  thy  spirit  to  the  skies. 

Q.  Fair  Moon — why  dost  thou  wane  ? 
A.  — That  I  may  wax  again. 

Q.  O  Sun, — what  makes  thy  beams  so  bright  ? 
A,  — ^The  Word  that  said,—"  Let  there  be  light" 

Q.  Planets, — what  guides  you  in  your  course  ? 
'A.  — Unseen,  unfelt,  unfailing  force. 

Q.  Nature, — whence  sprang  thy  glorious  frame  ? 
A.  — My  Maker  call'd  me,  and  I  came. 

Q.  O  Light, — thy  subtile  essence  who  may  know  ? 
A.  — Ask  not ;  for  all  things  but  myself  I  show. 

87 


314     *  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR, 

Q.  What  is  yon  arch  which  every  where  I  see  1 

A,  — The  sign  of  omnipresent  Deity. 

Q.  Where  rests  the  horizon's  all-embracing  zone  ? 

A.  — Where  earth,   God's  footstool,  touches  heaven,  his 

throne. 
Q.  Ye  cl«iids, — what  bring  ye  in  your  train  ? 
A.  — God's  embassies, — storm — lightning — hail — or  rain. 
Q.  Winds, — whence  and  whither  do  ye  blow  ? 
A.  — Thou  must  be  born  again  to  know. 
Q.  Bow  in  the  cloud, — what- token  dost  thou  bear? 
A.  — That  Justice  still  cries  ^^ strike"  and  Mercy  '■^ spared'' 
Q.  Dev/s  of  the  morning, — wherefore  were  ye  given  ? 
A.  — To  shine  on  earth,  then  rise  to  heaven. 
Q.  Rise,  glitter,  break ;  yet,  Bubble,  tell  me  whj-  ? 
A.  — To  show  the  course  of  all  beneath  the  sky. 
Q.  Stay,  Meteor,  stay  thy  falling  fire  ! 
A.  — No,  thus  shall  all  the  host  of  heaven  expire. 
Q.  Ocean, — what  law  thy  chainless  waves  confined  ? 
A,  — That  which  in  Reason's  limits,  holds  thy  mind. 
Q.  Time, — whither  dost  thou  flee  ? 
A.  — I  travel  to  Eternity. 

(Q.  Eternity, — what  art  thou  ? — say.  ^ 

A.  — Time  past,  time  present,  time  to  come, — to-day\ 
Q.  Ye  Dead, — where  can  your  dwelling  be  ? 
A,  — ^The  house  for  all  the  living ; — come  and  see. 
Q.  O  Life, — what  is  thy  breath  ? 
A.  — A  vapor,  lost  in  death. 
Q.  O  Death, — how  ends  thy  strife  ? 
A.  — In  everlasting  life. 
Q.  O  Grave, — where  is  thy  victory  ? 
A.  —Ask  him  who  rose  aofain  from  me. 


LESSON  CLXV. 

On  the  Death  of  Mrs.  Mason. — Mason. 

1.  Take,  holy  earth  !  all  that  my  soul  holds  dear : 
Take  that  best  gift,  which  heaven  so  lately  gave  : 
To  Bristol's  fount  I  bore,  Avith  trembling  care. 
Her  faded  form.     She  bow'd  to  taste  the  wave, 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  315 

2.  And  died.     Does  youth,  does  beauty  read  the  line  ? 

Does  sympathetic  fear  their  breast  alarm  ? 
Speak,  dead  Maria  !  breathe  a  strain  divine ; 

E'en  from  the  grave  thou  shalt  have  power  to  charm. 

3.  Bid  them  be  chaste,  be  innocent  like  thee  ; 

Bid  them  in  duty's  sphere,  as  meekly  move : 
And  if  as  fair,  from  vanity  as  free. 

As  firm  in  friendship,  and  as  fond  in  love  : 

4.  Tell  them,  though  'tis  an  awful  thing  to  die, 

('Twas  e'en  to  thee)  yet  the  dread  path  once  trod, 
Heaven  lifts  its  everlasting  portals  high, 

And  bids  the  "  pure  in  heart  behold  their  God." 


LESSON  CLXVI. 

Ode  from  the  IQth  Psalm, — Addison. 

1.  The  spacious  firmament  on  high, 
With  all  the  blue  etherial  sky, 
And-spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame, 
Their  great  original  proclaim. 

Th'  unwearied  sun,  from  day  to  day. 
Does  his  Creator's  power  display  ; 
And  publishes  to  ev'ry  land, 
The  work  of  an  Almighty  hand. 

2.  Soon  as  the  evening  shades  prevail, 
The  moon  takes  up  the  wond'rous  tale, 
And,  nightly,  to  the  list'ning  earth, 
Repeats  the  story  of  her  birth  ; 
Whilst  all  the  stars  that  round  her  burn, 
And  all  the  planets  in  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll. 

And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 

3.  What  though,  in  solemn  silence,  all 
Move  round  the  dark  terrestrial  ball  ? 
What  though  no  real  voice  nor  sound 
Amid  these  radiant  orbs  be  found  ? 
In  reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice. 

And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice, 

Forever  singing,  as  they  shine, 

"  The  hand  that  made  us  is  divine." 


316  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  CLXVIL 

Rest  in  Heaven, — Anonymous. 

1.  Should  sorrow  o'er  thy  brow 

Its  darken'd  shadows  fling, 
And  hopes  that  cheer  thee  now, 

Die  in  their  early  spring ; 
Should  pleasure  at  its  birth 

Fade  like  the  hues  of  even. 
Turn  thou  away  from  earth, 

There's  rest  for  thee  in  Heaven. 

2.  If  ever  life  shall  seem 

To  thee  a  toilsome  way, 
And  gladness  cease  to  beam 

Upon  its  clouded  day ; 
If  like  the  weary  dove 

O'er  shoreless  ocean  driven ; 
Raise  thou  thine  eye  above. 

There's  rest  for  thee  in  Heaven. 

3.  But  O  if  thornless  flowers 

Throughout  thy  pathway  bloom, 
And  gaily  fleet  the  hours, 

Unstain'd  by  earthly  gloom. 
Still  let  not  every  thought 

To  this  poor  world  be  given, 
Nor  always  be  forgot 

Thy  better  rest  in  Heaven. 

4.  When  sickness  pales  thy  cheek, 

And  dims  thy  lustrous  eye, 
And  pulses  low  and  weak, 

Tell  of  a  time  to  die  ; 
Sweet  hope  shall  whisper  then — 

"  Though  thou  from  earth  be  riven, 
"  There's  bliss  beyond  thy  ken, 

"  There's  rest  for  thee  in  Heaven." 


LESSON  CLXVIII. 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem.— U.  K.  White. 

1  When  marshalled  on  the  nightly  plain, 
The  glittering  host  bestud  the  sky ; 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  317 

One  star  alone,  of  all  the  train, 

Can  fix  the  sinner's  wandering  eye. 
Hark  !  Hark  !  to  God  the  chorus  breaks. 

From  every  host,  from  every  gem ; 
But  one  alone  the  Saviour  speaks, 

It  is  the  star  of  Bethlehem. 

2.  Once  on  the  raging  seas  I  rode, 

The  storm  was  loud ; — the  night  was  dark. 
The  ocean  yawned — and  rudely  blow'd 

The  wind  that  toss'd  my  foundering  bark. 
De'ep  horror  then  my  vitals  froze. 

Death  struck,  I  ceased  the  tide  to  stem ; 
When  suddenly  a  star  arose, 

It  was  the  star  of  Bethlehem. 

3.  It  was  my  guide,  my  light,  my  all. 

It  bade  my  dark  forebodings  cease  : 
And  through  the  storm  and  danger's  thrall, 

It  led  me  to  the  port  of  peace. 
Now,  safely  moor'd — my  perils  o'er, 

I'll  sing,  first  in  night's  diadem, 
For  ever  and  for  ever  more, 

The  star,  the  star  of  Bethlehem ! 


LESSON  CLXIX. 

Address  to  Time, — Lord  Byron. 

1.  Oh  Time  !   the  beautifier  of  the  dead, 
Adorner  of  the  ruin,  comforter 

And  only  healer  v/hen  the  heart  hath  bled — 
Time  !  the  corrector  where  our  judgments  err, 
The  test  of  truth,  love, — sole  philosopher, 
For  all  beside  are  sophists,  from  thy  thrift, 
Which  never  loses  tho'  it  doth  defer — 
Time,  the  avenger  !  unto  thee  I  lift 
My  hands,  and  eyes,  and  heart,  and  crave  of  thee  a  gift 

2.  Amidst  this  wreck,  where  thou  hast  made  a  shrine 
And  temple  more  divinely  desolate, 

Among  thy  mightier  oflferings  here  are  mine, 
Ruins  of  years — tho'  few — yet  full  of  fate  :— 
if  thou  hast  ever  seen  me  too  elate, 

27* 


318  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Hear  me  not ;    but  if  calmly  I  have  borne 
Good,  and  reserved  my  pride  against  the  hate 
Which  shall  not  whelm  me,  let  me  not  have  worn 
This  iron  in  my  soul  in  vain — shall  they  not  mourn  ? 

3.  And  thou,  who  never  yet  of  human  wrong- 
Lost  the  unbalanced  scale,  great  Nemesis  !* 
Here  Avhere  the  ancient  paid  thee  homage  long — 
Thou,  who  didst  call  the  Furiesf  from  the  abyss, 
And  round  Orestes|  bade  them  howl  and  hiss 
For  that  unnatural  retribution — ^just, 

Had  it  but  been  from  hands  less  near — in  this 
Thy  former  realm,  I  call  thee  from  the  dust ! 
Dost  thou  not  hear  my  heart? — Awake,  thou  shalt  and  must 

4.  It  is  not,  that  I  may  not  have  incurr'd 

For  my  ancestral  faults,  or  mine,  the  wound 
I  bleed  withal,  and  had  it  been  conferral 
With  a  just  weapon,  it  had  flowed  unbound  ; 
But  now  my  blood  shall  not  sink  in  the  ground ; 
To  thee  do  I  devote  it — thou  shalt  take 
The  vengeance  which  shall  yet  be  sought  and  found, 
Which  if  /  have  not  taken  for  the  sake — 
But  let  that  pass — /sleep,  but  thou  shalt  yet  awake. 

5.  And  if  my  voice  break  forth,  'tis  not  that  now, 
I  shrink  from  what  is  sufl'ered  :  let  him  speak 
Wlio  hath  beheld  decline  upon  my  brow, 

Or  seen  my  mind's  convulsion  leave  it  weak  ; 
But  in  this  page  a  record  will  I  seek. 
Not  in  the  air  shall  these  my  words  disperse, 
Tho'  I  be  ashes ;  a  far  hour  shall  wreak 
The  deep  prophetic  fulness  of  this  verse,     . 
And  pile  on  human  heads  the  mountain  of  7ny  curse, 

6.  That  curse  shall  be  forgiveness. — Have  I  not — 
Hear  me,  my  mother  Earth !  behold  it  heaven  ! — 

♦  Nem'-e-sis,  the  goddess  of  justice  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  usu- 
ally represented  with  a  pair  of  scak^s  in  one  hand,  and  a  whip  in  the  other. 

t  Furies,  three  fiibulous  deities,  called  jroddesses  of  horror.  Their  ofiice 
was  to  observe  and  jmiiish  the  actions  of  bad  men,  and  torment  the  con- 
sciences of  secret  ofll'iiders. 

t  Orestes  was  the  son  of  Agamemnon,  a  distinguished  hero  at  the  siege 
of  Troy,  who  was  killed,  on  his  return  to  Greece,  by  his  wife'awd  iEgisr.hu«, 
her  base  lover.  Orestes,  to  avenge  the  death  of  his  father,  slew  his  mother ; 
for  which  act  he  was  pursued  by  the  Furies,  and  suffered  the  most  excru- 
ciatlug  torments. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  319 

Have  I  not  had  to  wrestle  with  my  lot  ? 
Have  I  not  suffered  things  to  be  forgiven  ? 
Have  I  not  had  my  brain  seared,  my  heart  riven, 
Hopes  snapp'd,  name  blighted,- Life's  life  lied  av/ay? 
And  only  not.  to  desperation  driven. 
Because  not  altogether  of  such  clay 
As  rots  into  the  souls  of  those  whom  I  survey. 

7.  But  I  have  lived,  and  have  not  lived  in  vain : 
My  mind  may  lose  its  force,  my  blood  its  fire, 
And  my  frame  perish  even  in  conquering  pain ; 
But  there  is  that  within  me  which  shall  tire 
Torture  and  Time,  and  breathe  when  I  expire ; 
Something  unearthly,  which  they  deem  not  of, 
Like  the  remembered  tone  of  a  mute  lyre, 
Shall  on  their  softened  spirits  sink,  and  move 

In  hearts  all  rocky  now  the  late  remorse  of  love. 


LESSON  CLXX. 

Absalom.* — Willis. 

\.  The  waters  slept.     Night's  silvery  veil  hung  low 
On  Jordan's  bosom,  and  the  eddies  curled 
Their  glassy  rings  beneath  it7  like  the  still. 
Unbroken  beating  of  the  sleeper's  pulse. 
The  reeds  bent  down  the  stream  :  the  willow  leaves, 
With  a  soft  cheek  upon  the  lulling  tide. 
Forgot  the  lifting  winds ;  and  the  long  stems. 
Whose  flowers  the  water,  like  a  gentle  nurse. 
Bears  on  its  bosom,  quietly  gave  way. 
And  leaned,  in  graceful  attitudes,  to  rest. 
How  strikingly  the  course  of  nature  tells, 
,By  its  light  heed  of  human  suffering, 
That  it  was  fiishioned  fur  a  happier  world  ! 

2.  King  David's  limbs  were  weary.     He  had  fled 
From  far  Jerusalem  ;  and  now  he  stood, 
With  his  faint  people,  for  a  little  rest 
Upon  the  shore  of  Jordan.     The  light  wind 
Of  morn  was  stirring,  and  he  bared  his  brow 
To  its  refreshing  breath ;  for  he  had  worn 
The  mourner's  covering,  and  he  had  not  felt 
That  he  could  see  his  people  until  now. 
♦  See  2  Samuel,  chap,  xviii. 


320  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

They  gathered  round  him  on  the  fresh  green  bank. 
And  spoke  their  kindly  words  ;  and,  as  the  sun 
Rose  up  in  heaven,  he  knelt  among  them  there, 
And  bowed  his  head  upon  his  h»ands  to  pray. 

3.  Oh  !  when  the  heart  is  full — when  bitter  thoughts 
Come  crowding  thickly  up  for  utterance. 

And  the  poor  common  words  of  courtesy 

Are  such  a  very  mockery — how  much 

The  bursting  heart  may  pour  itself  in  prayer ! 

He  prayed  for  Israel ;  and  his  voice  went  up 

Strongly  and  fervently.     He  prayed  for  those 

Whose  love  had  been  his  shield  ;  and  his  deep  tones 

Grew  trennilous.     But,  oh  !  fur  Absalom — 

For  his  estranged,  misguided  Absalom — 

The  proud,  bright  being, who  had  burst  away, 

In  all  his  princely  beauty,  to  defy 

The  heart  that  cherished  him — for  him  he  poured, 

In  agony  that  would  not  be  controlled. 

Strong  supplication,  and  forgave  him  there. 

Before  his  God,  for  his  deep  sinfulness. 

#  #  *  *  * 

4.  The  pall  was  settled.     He  who  slept  beneath, 
Was  straightened  for  the  grave  ;  and,  as  the  folds 
Sunk  to  the  still  proportions,  they  betrayed 

The  matchless  symmetry  of  Absalom. 

His  hair  was  yet  unshorn,  and  silken  curls 

Were  floating  round  the  tassels  as  they  swayed 

To  t)ie  admitted  air,  as  glossy  now. 

As  when,  in  hours  of  gentle  dalliance,  bathing 

The  snowy  fingers  of  Judea's  girls. 

His  helm  was  at  his  feet;  his  banner,  soiled 

With  trailing  through  Jerusalem,  was  laid 

Reversed,  beside  him;  and  the  jewelled  hilt. 

Whose  diamonds  lit  the  passage  of  his  blade. 

Rested,  like  mockery,  on  his  covered  brow. 

5.  The  soldiers  of  the  king  trod  to  and  fro, 
Clad  in  the  garb  of  battle  ;  and  their  chief. 
The  mighty  Joab,  stood  beside  the  bier, 
And  orazcd  upon  the  dark  pall  steadfastly. 

As  if  he  feared  the  slumberer  might  stir. 

A  slow  step  startled  him.     He  grasped  his  blade 

As  if  a  trumpet  rang  ;  but  the  bent  form 

Of  David  entered,  and  he  gave  command, 

In  a  low  tone,  to  his  few  followers, 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  32^ 

And  left  him  with  his  dead.     The  king  stood  still 
Till  the  last  echo  died  :  then,  throwing  off 
The  sackloth  from  his  brow,  and  laying  back 
The  pall  from  the  still  features  of  his  child, 
He  bowed  his  head  upon  him,  and  broke  forth 
In  the  resistless  eloquence  of  wo  : — 

6.  "  Alas  !  my  noble  boy  !  that  thou  should'st  die  i 

Thou,  who  wert  made  so  beautifully  fair ! 
That  death  should  settle  in  thy  glorious  eye, 

And  leave  his  stillness  in  this  clustering  hair ! 
How  could  he  mark  thee  for  the  silent  tomb, 
My  proud  boy,  Absalom  ! 

7.  "  Cold  is  thy  brow,  my  son  !  and  I  am  chill 

As  to  my  bosom  I  have  tried  to  press  thee. 
How  was  I  wont  to  feel  my  pulses  thrill. 

Like  a  rich  harp-string,  yearning  to  caress  thee, 
And  hear  thy  sweet  '  my  father''  from  these  dumb 
And  cold  lips,  Absalom  ! 

8.  "  The  grave  hath  won  thee.     I  shall  hear  the  gush. 

Of  music,  and  the  voices  of  the  young  ; 
And  life  will  pass  me  in  the  mantling  blush. 

And  the  dark  tresses  to  the  soft  winds  flung ; — 
But  thou  no  more,  with  thy  sweet  voice,  shalt  come 
To  meet  me,  Absalom  ! 

9.  "  And,  oh  !  when  I  am  stricken,  and  my  heart, 

Like  a  bruised  reed,  is  waiting  to  be  broken. 
How  will  its  love  for  thee,  as  I  depart. 

Yearn  for  thine  ear  to  drink  its  last  deep  token  I 
It  were  so  sweet,  amid  death's  gathering  gloom, 
To  see  thee,  Absalom  ! 

10  "  And  now,  farewell !  'Tis  hard  to  give  thee  up, 
With  death  so  like  a  gentle  slumber  on  thee  : — 
And  thy  dark  sin ! — Oh  !  I  could  drink  the  cup, 

If  from  this  wo  its  bitterness  had  won  thee. 
May  God  have  called  thee,  like  a  wanderer,  home, 
My  erring  Absalom !" 

H.  He  covered  up  his  face  and  bowed  himself 
A  moment  on  his  child  ;  then,  giving  him 
A  look  of  melting  tenderness,  he  clasped 
His  hands  convulsively,  as  if  in  prayer ; 


322  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

And,  as  a  strength  were  given  him  of  God, 
He  rose  up  cahnly,  and  composed  the  pall 
Firmly  and  decently,  and  left  him  there, 
As  if  his  rest  had  been  a  breathing  sleep. 


LESSON  CLXXI. 

The  Miami  Mounds* — S.  L.  Fairfield. 

1.  Wrecks  of  lost  nations!  monuments  of  deeds, 
Immortal  once — but  all  forgotten  now  ! 
Mysterious  ruins  of  a  race  unknown. 

As  proud  of  ancestry,  and  pomp,  and  fame — 
Prouder,  perchance,  than  those  who  ponder  here 
O'er  what  their  wild  conjectures  cannot  solve  ! 
Who  raised  these  moulderino-  battlements  ?  who  trod 
In  jealous  glory  on  these  ruined  walls  ? — 
Who  reigned,  who  triumphed,  or  who  perished  here  ? 
What  scenes  of  revelry,  and  mirth,  and  crime, 
And  love,  and  hate,  and  bliss,  and  bale,  have  passed  ? 
Ah  ?  none  can  tell. 

2.  Oblivion's  dusky  folds 
Shroud  all  the  past,  and  none  may  lift  the  pall ; 
Or,  if  they  could^  what  would  await  the  eye 
Of  antique  research,  but  the  flcshless  forms 

Of  olden  time  :  dark  giant  bones  that  tell — 
Nothing  !  dim  mysteries  of  the  earth  and  air  ! 
Since  human  passions  met  in  conflict  here, 
The  woods  of  centuries  have  grown — and  oft 
And  long,  the  timid  deer  hath  b<umded  o'er 
The  sepulchre  of  warriors,  and  wild  birds 
Sung  notes  of  love  o'er  slaughter's  crimson  field, 
And  the  gaunt  wolf,  and  catamount,  and  fox. 
Have  made  their  couches  in  the   'mbattlcd  towers 
Of  dauntless  chiefs,  nor  dreamt  of  danijer  there  ! 

♦  In  various  pirts  of  the  Wostorn  States,  numerous  remains  of  fortifica- 
tions, and  mounds  of  earth,  have  been  discovered,  which  have  excited  the 
astonishment  and  curiosity  of  all  v^ho  have  seen  them.  Some  of  these  forti- 
fications are  suiall,  while  others  encloh;e  40  or  50  acres  of  land.  The  mounds 
are  built  in  the  form  of  a  sugar  loaf,  and  were  undoubtedly  iKed  for  burying 
places,  as  they  are  found  to  contuin  human  bones.  They  must  have  Inien 
built  at  a  very  reniote  period,  as  trees  several  hundred  years  old  are  often 
seen  growinjT  ujxin  them,  and  the  present  race  of  Indians  have  no  tradition 
respecting  their  orijjin.  They  indicate  great  labor,  and  were  evidently  the 
work  of  a  people  who  had  made  some  advances  in  civilization,  and  who 
potisessed  considerable  knowledge  in  the  business  of  fortifications. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  323 

Princes  and  kings — the  wise,  the  great,  the  good. 
May  slumber  here,  and  blend  their  honored  dust 
With  Freedom's  soil ;  and  navies  may  have  rode 
On  the  same  wave  that  bears  our  starry  sails. 

3.  Here  heroes  may  have  bled  to  win  a  name 
On  Glory's  sunbright  scroll,  and  prophets  watched 
Their  holy  shrines,  whose  lires  no  longer  glow. 
Sweet  rose  and  woodbine  bowers  around  these  walls 
May  once  have  bloomed,  less  fragrant  and  less  fair 
Than  the  fond  hearts  that  blended,  and  the  lips 
That  pressed  in  passion's  rapture ;  and  these  airs, 
That  float  unconscious  by,  may  have  been  born 

Of  gales,  that  bore  Love's  soft  enchanting  words. 
But  all  is  silent  now  as  Death's  own  halls  ! 

4.  Empires  have  perish'd  where  these  forests  tower 
In  desolate  array — and  nations  sunk. 

With  all  their  glories,  to  the  darkling  gulf 
Of  cold  forgetfulness  !  But  what  avails 
The  uncertain  guess,  the  dark  and  wildering  search 
For  those  whose  spirits  have  but  passed  away 
To  the  dark  land  of  shadows  and  of  dreams, 
An  hour  before  our  own  ?  Why  in  amaze 
Behold  these  shattered  walls,  when  other  times 
Shall  hang  in  wondering  marvel  o'er  our  own 
Proud  cities,  and  enquire — "  Who  builded  these  V* 


LESSON  CLXXII. 
On  Time.—n.  K.  White. 

1.  Who  needs  a  teacher  to  admonish  him 
That  flesh  is  grass  ? — That  earthly  things  are  mist  ? 
What  are  our  joys  but  dreams  ?  And  what  our  hopes 
But  goodly  shadows  in  the  summer  cloud  ? 
There's  not  a  wind  that  blows,  but  bears  with  it 
Some  rainbow  promise. — Not  a  moment  flies 
But  puts  its  sickle  in  the  fields  of  life. 
And  mows  its  thousands,  with  their  joys  and  cares. 

2.   'li*s  but  as  yesterday,  since  on  yon  stars, 
Which  now  I  view,  the  Chaldee  shepherd*  gaz'd 
In  his  mid-watch,  observant,  and  dispos'd 
The  twinkling  hosts,  as  fancy  gave  them  shape. 

♦  Alluding  to  the  first  Astronomical  observations,  made  by  the  Chaldean 
Bhepherds. 


324  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Yet  in  the  interim,  what  mighty  shocks 
Have  buffetted  mankind — whole  nations  razed — 
Cities  made  desolate — the  polished  sunk 
To  barbarism,  and  once  barbaric  states 
Swaying  the  wand  of  science  and  of  arts  ; 
Illustrious  deeds  and  memorable  names 
Blotted  from  record,  and  upon  the  tongue 
Of  grey  tradition,  voluble  no  more. 

3.  Where  are  the  heroes  of  the  ages  past ; 
Where  the  brave  chieftains — where  the  mighty  ones 
Who  flourished  in  the  infancy  of  days  ? — 

All  to  the  grave  gone  down  ! — On  their  fall'n  fame 

Exultant,  mocking  at  the  pride  of  man, 

Sits  grim  For getf vines s. — The  warrior's  ai-m 

Lies  nerveless  on  the  pillow  of  its  shame  ; 

Hush'd  is  his  stormy  voice,  and  quenched  the  blaze 

Of  his  red  eye-ball. 

4.  Yesterday  his  name 

Was  mighty  on  the  earth — To-day — 'tis  what  ? 
The  meteor  of  the  night  of  distant  years, 
That  flash'd  unnotic'd,  save  by  wrinkled  eld 
Musing  at  midnight  upon  prophecies. 
Who  at  her  lonely  lattice  saw  the  gleam 
Point  to  the  mist-pois'd  shroud,  then  quietly 
Clos'd  her  pale  lips,  and  lock'd  the  secret  up 
Safe  in  the  charnel's  treasures. 

5.  O  how  weak 
Is  mortal  man  !  How  trifling — how  confin'd 
His  scope  of  vision  ! — Pufi^'d  with  confidence, 
His  phrase  grows  big  with  immortality  ; 
And  he,  poor  insect  of  a  summer's  day, 
Dreams  of  eternal  honors  to  his  name ; 

Of  endless  glory,  and  perennial  bays. 
He  idly  reasons  of  Eternity, 
As  of  the  train  of  ages, — when,  alas  !  ^ 
Ten  thousand  thousand  of  his  centuries 
Are,  in  comparison,  a  little  point, 
Too  trivial  for  account. 

6.  O  it  is  strange,  • 
'Tis  passing  strange,  to  mark  his  fallacies ; 
Behold  him  proudly  view  some  pompous  pile, 
Whose  high  dome  swells  to  emulate  the  skies, 
And  smile  and  say,  my  name  shall  live  with  this, 
Till  Time  shall  be  no  more ;  while  at  his  feet. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  325 

Yea,  at  his  very  feet,  the  crumbling  dust 

Of  the  fall'n  fabric  of  the  other  day, 

Preaches  the  solemn  lesson. — He  should  know, 

That  time  must  conquer.     That  the  loudest  blast 

That  ever  fiU'd  Renown's  obstrep'rous  trump, 

Fades  in  the  lapse  of  ages,  and  expires.    ' 

Who  lies  inhum'd  in  the  terrific  gloom 

Of  the  gigantic  pyramid  ?     Or  who 

Rear'd  its  huge  wall  ? — Oblivion  laughs  and  says, 

The  prey  is  mine.     They  sleep,  and  never  more 

Their  names  shall  strike  upon  the  ear  of  man, 

Their  mem'ry  bursts  its  fetters. 

7.  Where  is  Rome  ? 
She  lives  but  in  the  tale  of  other  times  ; 

Her  proud  pavilions  are  the  hermits'  home. 
And  her  long  colonades,  her  public  walks, 
Now  faintly  echo  to  the  pilgrim's  feet. 
Who  comes  to  muse  in  solitude,  and  trace. 
Through  the  rank  moss  reveal'd,  her  honored  dust. 

8.  But  not  to  Rome  alone  has  fate  confin'd 
The  doom  of  ruin  ;  cities  numberless. 
Tyre,  Sidon,  Carthage,  Babylon,  and  Troy, 
And  rich  Phoenicia — they  are  blotted  out, 
Half-raz'd  from  memory ;  and  their  very  name 
And  being  in  dispute  ! 


LESSON  CLXXHL 

JuguTtha*  in  Prison. — Rev.  C.  Wolfe. 
\.  Well — is  the  rack  prepared — the  pincers  heated? 
Where  is  the  scourge  ? — How  ? — not  employed  in  Rome  ? 

*  Jugurtha  was  the  son  of  Mastanabal  and  grand-son  of  the  famous  Mas- 
sinissa,  king  of  Numidia.  His  father  having  died  while  he  was  yet  a  child, 
he  was  taken  by  his  uncle  Micipsa  and  educated  with  his  two  sons,  Hiemp- 
sal  and  Adherbal.  At  the  death  of  Micipsa,  the  kingdom  of  Numidia  waa 
divided  equally  between  Jugurtha  and  his  two  cousins.  Jugurtha,  greatly 
in  favor  with  the  people,  and  ambitious  to  possess  the  kingdom  alone,  mur- 
dered Hiempsal,  and  sought  to  do  the  same  by  Adherbal,  who  fled  to  Rome 
for  succor.  The  Roman  senate,  being  highly  bribed,  not  only  declared 
Jugurtha  innocent,  but  decreed  him  the  sovereignty  of  half  the  kingdom. 
Soon  after  this,  he  besieged  Adherbal  in  Cirta,  the  capital  of  the  kingdom, 
took  him,  and  cruelly  put  him  to  death.  This  drew  on  him  the  vengeance 
of  the  Romans.  Being  defeated  several  times  by  the  army  under  the  consul 
Marius,  he  applied  to  Bocchus,  his  father-in-law,  king  of  Mauritania,  for 
assistance,  by  whom  he  was  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  the  Romans.  He 
wag  led  in  chains  to  Rome  to  grace  the  triumph  of  Marius.  The  senate  con- 
demned him  to  be  starved  to  death  in  a  dungeon,  where  he  died,  B.  C.  103. 

28 


326  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

"We  have  them  in  Niimidia.     Not  in  Rome  ? 

I'm  sorry  for  it ; — I  could  enjoy  it  now ; 

I  might  have  felt  them  yesterday ;  but  now, — 

Now,  I  have  seen  my  funeral  procession ; 

The  chariot-wheels  of  Marius*  have  roll'd  o'er  me ; 

His  horses'  hoofs  have  trampled  me  in  triumph ; 

I  have  attain'd  that  terrible  consummation, 

My  soul  could  stand  aloof,  and  from  on  high 

Look  down  upon  the  ruins  of  my  body 

Smiling  in  apathy ; — I  feel  no  longer ; 

I  challenge  Rome  to  give  another  pang. 

Oh  !  how  he  smiled,  when  he  beheld  me  pause 

Before  his  car,  and  scowl  upon  the  mob ; 

The  curse  of  Rome  was  burning  on  my  lips, 

And  I  had  gnaw'd  my  chain,  and  hurl'd  it  at  them, 

But  that  I  knew  he  would  have  smiled  again. 

2.  A  king  !  and  led  before  the  gaudy  Marius, 
Before  those  shouting  masters  of  the  world. 

As  if  I  had  been  conquered :  while  each  street, 
Each  peopled  wall,  and  each  insulting  window, 
Peal'd  forth  their  brawling  triumphs  o'er  my  head. 
Oh  !  for  a  lion  from  thy  woods,  Numidia  ! — 
Or  had  I,  in  that  moment  of  disgrace, 
Enjoy'd  the  freedom  but  of  yonder  slave, 
I  would  have  made  my  monument  in  Rome. 
Yet  I  am  not  that  fool,  that  Roman  fool. 
To  think  disgrace  entombs  the  hero's  soul, — 
Forever  damps  his  fires,  and  dims  his  glories ; 
That  no  bright  laurel  can  adorn  the  brow 
That  once  has  bow'd  ;  no  victory's  trumpet-sound 
Can  drown  in  joy  the  rattling  of  his  chains. 

3.  What  avails  it  now, 
That  my  proud  views  despised  the  narrow  limits. 
Which  minds  that  span  and  measure  out  ambition 
Had  fixed  to  mine ;  and,  M'hile  I  seemed  intent 
On  savage  subjects  and  Numidian  forests. 

My  soul  had  pass'd  the  bounds  of  Africa  ! — 

♦  Caius  Marius,  a  distinguished  Roman  general.  He  was  seven  times 
consul.  Dissensions  having  arisen  between  him  and  Sylla,  Marius  and  his 
party  were  defeated,  and  he  was  obliged  to  flee  from  Italy.  After  various 
disasters,  he  landed  in  Africa,  and  went  in  a  melancholy  manner  and  seated 
himself  among  the  ruins  of  Carthage.  His  party,  headed  by  Cinna,  gain- 
ing the  ascendency,  he  returned  to  Rome,  and  put  to  death  all  whom  be 
considered  his  enemies.  Marius  assumed  the  consulship,  but  died  about  one 
month  after,  in  a  fit  of  debauch,  aged  70 — B.  C.  86. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  327 

Defeated  ! — overthrown  ! — yet  to  the  last 

Ambition  taught  me  hope  ;  and  still  my  mind, 

Through  danger,  flight,  and  carnage,  grasp'd  dominion; 

And  had  not  Bocchus — curses,  curses  on  him  ! — 

What  Rome  has  done,  she  did  it  for  ambition ; 

What  Rome  has  done,  I  might — I  would  have  done  ; 

What  thou  hast  done,  thou  wretch  ! — Oh  had  she  proved 

Nobly  deceitful :  had  she  seized  the  traitor, 

And  joined  him  with  the  fate  of  the  betrayed, 

I  had  forgiven  her  all ;  for  he  had  been 

The  consolation  of  my  prison  hours  ; 

I  could  forget  my  woes  in  stinging  him ; 

And  if,  before  this  day,  his  little  soul 

Had  not  in  bondage  wept  itself  away, 

Rome  and  Jugurtha  should  have  triumphed  o'er  him. 

4.  Look  here,  thou  caitiflf,*  if  thou  canst,  and  see 
The  fragments  of  Jugurtha  ; — view  him  wrapt 

In  the  last  shred  he  borrow'd  from  Numidia ; 

'Tis  cover'd  with  the  dust  of  Rome  ; — behold 

His  rooted  gaze  upon  the  chains  he  wears. 

And  on  the  channels  they  have  wrought  upon  him ; 

Then  look  around  upon  his  dungeon  walls. 

And  view  yon  scanty  mat,  on  which  his  frame 

He  flings,  and  rushes  from  his  thoughts  to  sleep. 

5.  Sleep ! 
I'll  sleep  no  more,  until  I  sleep  forever : 
When  I  slept  last,  I  heard  Adherbal  scream. 
I'll  sleep  no  more  !  I'll  thmk  until  I  die : 
My  eyes  shall  pore  upon  my  miseries, 
Until  my  miseries  shall  be  no  more. 

Yet  wherefore  did  he  scream?  Why,  I  have  heard 

His  living  scream, — it  was  not  half  so  frightful. 

Whence  comes  the  difference  ?  When  the  man  was  living, 

Why,  I  did  gaze  upon  his  couch  of  torments 

With  placid  vengeance,  and  each  anguish'd  cry 

Gave  me  stern  satisfaction  ;  now  he's  dead, 

And  his  lips  move  not : — yet  his  voice's  image 

Flash'd  such  a  dreadful  darkness  o'er  my  soul, 

I  would  not  hear  that  fearful  cry  aorain 

For  the  high  glory  of  Numidia's  throne. 

6.  But  ah !  'twas  I  that  caused  that  living'  scream, 
And  therefore  did  its  ecJio  seem  so  frightful : — 

If  'twere  to  do  again,  I  would  not  kill  thee ; 

*  Pronounced  ca-ti^  a  base  villain — meaning  Bocchus. 


338  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

Wilt  thou  not  be  contented  ? — But  thou  say'st, 

"  My  father  was  to  thee  a  father  also  ; 

He  watch'd  thy  infant  years,  and  gave  thee  all 

That  youth  could  ask,  and  scarcely  manhood  came. 

Than  came  a  kingdom  also  ;  yet  didst  thou" — 

Oh  I  am  faint ! — they  have  not  brought  me  food — 

How  did  I  not  perceive  it  until  now  ? 

Hold, — my  Numidian  cruse  is  still  about  me — 

No  drop  within — Oh,  faithful  friend,  companion 

Of  many  a  weary  march  and  thirsty  day  ; 

*Tis  the  first  time  that  thou  hast  fail'd  my  lips, — 

7.  Gods  !  I'm  in  tears  ! — I  did  not  think  of  weeping. 
Oh  Marius,  wilt  thou  ever  feel  like  this  ? 
Ha  !  I  behold  the  ruin  of  a  city  ; 
And  on  a  craggy  fragment  sits  a  form 
That  seems  in  ruins  also ;  how  unmoved, 
How  stern  he  looks  !  Amazement !  it  is  Marius. 
Ha  !  Marius,  think'st  thou  now  upon  Jugurtha  ? 
He  turns  !  he's  caught  my  eye  ! — I  see  no  more ! 


LESSON  CLXXIV. 

RienzVs*  Address  to  the  Romans. — Miss  Mitford. 

1.  Friends, 

I  come  not  here  to  talk.     Ye  know  too  well 
The  story  of  our  thraldom.     We  are  slaves  ! 
The  bright  sun  rises  to  his  course,  and  lights 
A  race  of  slaves  !  He  sets,  and  his  last  beam 
Falls  on  a  slave ;  not  such  as,  swept  along 
By  the  full  tide  of  power,  the  conqueror  led 
To  crimson  glory  and  undying  fame ; 
But  base,  ignoble  slaves — slaves  to  a  horde 
Of  petty  tyrants,  feudal  despots  !  lords 
Rich  in  some  dozen  paltry  villages — 
Strong  in  some  hundred  spearmen — only  great 
In  that  strange  spell — a  name. 

2.  Each  hour,  dark  fraud, 
Or  open  rapine,  or  protected  murder, 

*  Nicolas  Gahrini  de  Rienzi,  a  remarkable  character  of  the  14th  century; 
He  was  the  son  of  an  obscure  miller,  yet  by  his  zeal  in  opposing  the  existing 
vices,  and  by  persuading  his  friends  that  he  was  able  to  restore  the  ancient 
glory  of  his  country,  he  gained  the  supreme  power ;  and  was  declared  sove- 
reign of  Rome,  with  the  approbation  of  the  Pope.  This  excited  the  jealousy 
of  the  nobles,  and  he  was  murdered  in  1354. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  329 

Cry  out  against  them.     But  this  very  day, 

An  honest  man,  my  neighbor, — there  he  stands, 

Was  struck,  struck  like  a  dog,  by  one  who  wore 

The  badge  of  Ursini*  ;  because,  forsooth, 

He  tossed  not  high  his  ready  cap  in  air. 

Nor  lifted  up  his  voice  in  servile  shouts, 

At  sight  of  that  great  ruffian.     Be  we  men. 

And  suffer  such  dishonor — Men,  and  wash  not 

The  stain  away  in  blood  ?  Such  shames  are  common : 

I  have  known  deeper  wrongs. 

.-    3.  I,  that  speak  to  ye, 

I  had  a  brother  once,  a  gracious  boy. 

Full  of  gentleness,  of  calmest  hope. 

Of  sweet  and  quiet  joy — there  was  the  look 

Of  heaven  upon  his  face,  which  limners  give 

*To  the  beloved  disciple.'     How  I  loved 

That  gracious  boy !  Younger  by  fifteen  years, 

Brother  at  once  and-  son  !  '  He  left  my  side ; 

A  summer  bloom  on  his  fair  cheeks, — a  smile 

Parting  his  innocent  lips.'     In  one  short  hour 

The  pretty,  harmless  boy  was  slain !  I  saw 

The  corse,  the  mangled  corse,  and  then  I  cried 

For  vengeance ! 

4.  Rouse,  ye  Romans  ! — Rouse,  ye  slaves ! 

Have  ye  brave  sons  ? — Look  in  the  next  fierce  brawl 
To  see  them  die.     Have  ye  fair  daughters  ? — Look 
To  see  them  live,  torn  from  your  arms,  distained. 
Dishonored  ;  and  if  ye  dare  call  for  justice. 
Be  answered  by  the  lash.     Yet  this  is  Rome, 
That  sat  on  her  seven  hills,  and,  from  her  throne 
Of  beauty,  ruled  the  world !  Yet,  we  are  Romans  ! 
Why  in  that  elder  day  to  be  a  Roman 
Was  greater  than  a  king !  And  once  again, — 
Hear  me,  ye  walls,  that  echoed  to  the  tread 
Of  either  Brulusf  !  once  again,  I  swear. 
The  eternal  city  shall  be  free ;  her  sons 
Shall  walk  with  princes  ! 

♦  Ursini,  a  Roman  nobleman. 

t  Lucius  Junius  Brutus,  one  who  expelled  the  Tarquins,  and  abolished 
the  regal  government  at  Rome,  B.  C.  509. 

Marcus  Junius  Brutus,  one  of  the  conspirators  who  assassinated  Julins 
Cesar. 

28* 


330  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

LESSON  CLXXV. 

Battle  of  Waterloo* — Lord  Byron. 

L  There  was  a  sound  of  revelry  by  night, 
And  Belgium's  capitalt  had  gathered  then 
Her  beauty  and  her  chivalry,  and  bright 
The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men : 
A  thousand  hearts  beat  happily  ;  and  when 
Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell. 
Soft  eyes  looked  love  to  eyes  which  spake  again. 
And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell ; 
But  hush!  hark ! — a  deep  sound  strikes  like  a  rising  knelL 

2.  Did  ye  not  hear  it  ? — No ;  'twas  but  the  wind, 
Or  the  car  ratlling  o'er  the  stony  street : 

On  with  the  dance  !  let  joy  be  unconfined ; 

No  sleep  till  morn,  when  youth  and  pleasure  meet 

To  chase  the  glowing  hours  with  flying  feet — 

But,  hark  ! — that  heavy  sound  breaks  in  once  more. 

As  if  the  clouds  its  echo  would  repeat. 

And  nearer,  clearer,  deadlier  than  before ! 

Arm  !  arm  !  it  is — it  is — the  cannon'' s  opening  roar ! 

3.  Ah  !  then  and  there  was  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
And  gathering  tears,  and  tremblings  of  distress, 
And  cheeks  all  pale,  which  but  an  hour  ago 
Blushed  at  the  praise  of  their  own  loveliness : 
And  there  were  sudden  partings,  such  as  press 
The  life  from  out  young  hearts,  and  choking  sighs 
Which  ne'er  miglit  be  repeated — who  could  guess 
If  ever  more  should  meet  those  mutual  eyes, 

Since  upon  night  so  sweet  such  awful  morn  could  rise  ? 

4.  And  there  was  mounting  in  hot  haste ;  the  steed. 
The  mustering  squadron,  and  the  clattering  car, 
Went  pouring  forward  with  impetuous  speed, 
And  swiftly  forming  in  the  ranks  of  war ; 

And  the  deep  thunder,  peal  on  peal  afar ; 

♦  Waterloo,  a  town  of  Bclfjium,  12  miles  south  of  Brussels.  It  is  well 
known  as  the  scene  of  one  of  the  most  important  and  hard  fought  battles  in 
modern  times,  between  the  allied  British,  German,  and  Belgic  troops,  under 
tho  duke  of  Wellington  and  marshal  Blucher ;  and  the  Frencli,  under  Na- 
poleon Bonaparte,  June  18th,  1815.  The  French  were  totally  defeutud,  aiid 
the  hopes  of  Bonaparte  for  ever  blasted, 

t  Brussels,  one  of  the  most  splendid  cities  in  Europe,  celebrated  for  ita 
manufacture  of  carpets. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  331 

And  near,  the  beat  of  the  alarming  drum 
Roused  up  the  soldier  ere  the  morning  star ; 
While  thronored  the  citizens  with  terror  dumb. 
Or  whispering  with  white  lips — "  The  foe  !  They  come  ! 
they  come  !" 

5.  And  Ardennes*  waves  above  them  her  green  leaves. 
Dewy  with  nature's  tear-drops,  as  they  pass, 
Grieving,  if  aught  inanimate  e'er  grieves, 

Over  the  unreturning  brave, — alas  ! 

Ere  evening  to  be  trodden  like  the  grass 

Which  now  beneath  them,  but  above  shall  grow 

In  its  next  verdure,  when  this  fiery  mass 

Of  living  valor  rolling  on  the  foe. 

And  burning  with  high  hope,  shall  moulder  cold  and  low. 

6.  Last  noon  beheld  them  full  of  lusty  life, 
Last  eve  in  beauty's  circle  proudly  gay, 

The  midnight  brought  the  signal-sound  of  strife, 

The  morn  the  marshalling  in  arms, — the  day, 

Battle's  magnificently-stern  array  ! 

The  thunder-clouds  close  o'er  it,  which  when  rent. 

The  earth  is  covered  thick  with  other  clay, 

Which  her  own  clay  shall  cover,  heaped  and  pent, 

Rider  and  horse, — friend,  foe, — in  one  red  burial  blent  I 


LESSON  CLXXVI. 

The  Power  of  Eloquence, — Gary. 

1.  Heard  ye  those  loud  contending  waves. 

That  shook  Cecropia'sf  pillar'd  state  ? 
Saw  ye  the  mighty  from  their  graves 

Look  up  and  tremble  at  her  fate  ? 
Who  shall  calm  the  angry  storm  ? 
Who  the  mighty  task  perform. 

And  bid  the  raging  tumult  cease  ? 
8e8  the  son  of  Hermes^  rise  ; 
With  syren  tongue,  and  speaking  eyes. 

Hush  the  noise,  and  sooth  to  peace ! 

*  Ardennea,  a  chain  (.f  mountains  between  the  Meuse  and  Moselle  rivera, 
trr  tlio.  ^and-duchy  of  Luxemburg. 

t  Athens,  the  ancient  capital  of  Attica,  was  founded  by  Cecrops,  1550 
years  E  O.,  and  was  called  Cecropia  till  the  time  of  Ericthonius,  when  it 
received  the  name  of  Alliens. 

t  Demosthenes,  the  Grecian  orator,  called  the  son  of  Hermes,  because 
Hermes,  or  Mercury,  was  the  god  of  eloquence. 


332  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

2.  Lo  !  from  the  regions  of  the  North, 

The  reddening  storm  of  battle  pours ; 
Rolls  along  the  trembling  earth, 

Fastens  on  the  Olynthian*  towers. 
*'  Where  rests  the  sword  ? — where  sleep  the  brave  ? 
Awake  !  Cecropia's  ally  save 

From  the  fury  of  the  blast : 
Burst  the  storm  on  Phocis'  walls ; 
Rise  !  or  Greece  forever  falls, 
Up  !  or  Freedom  breathes  her  last !" 

3.  The  jarring  States,  obsequious  now, 

View  the  Patriot's  hand  on  high ; 
Thunder  gathering  on  his  brow. 

Lightning  flashing  from  his  eye  ! 
Borne  by  the  tide  of  words  along, 
One  voice,  one  mind,  inspire  the  throng 

"  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  to  arms  !"  they  cry, 
"  Grasp  the  shield,  and  draw  the  sword, 
Lead  us  to  Philippi's  lord,t 

Let  us  conquer  him — or  die  !" 

4.  Ah  !  Eloquence !  thou  wast  undone ; 

Wast  from  thy  native  country  driven, 
When  Tyranny  eclips'd  the  sun, 

And  blotted  out  the  stars  of  heaven. 
When  liberty  from  Greece  withdrew, 
And  o'er  the  Adriatic  flew. 

To  where  the  Tiber  pours  his  urn, 
She  struck  the  rude  Tarpeiant  rock ; 
Sparks  were  kindled  by  the  shock- — 

Again  thy  fires  began  to  burn  ! 

5.  Now  shining  forth,  thou  mad'st  compliant 

The  Conscript  Fathers  to  thy  charms  ; 
Rous'd  the  world-bestriding  giant, 

Sinking  fast  in  Slavery's  arms  ! 
I  see  thoo  stand  by  Freedom's  fane. 
Pouring  the  persuasive  strain, 

*  Olynthus  was  a  celebrated  town  of  Macedonia,  which  was  destroyed  by 
Philip,  and  rhe  inlialiitants  sold  for  slaves. 

t  Philip,  king  of  Macedon. 

X  The  Tarpeian  rock  is  a  hill  at  Rome,  about  80  fret  in  perpendicular 
height,  whence  condemned  criminals  were  sometimes  thrown. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  333 

Giving  vast  conceptions  birth  ; 
Hark !  I  hear  thy  thunder's  sound, 
Shake  the  Forum  round  and  round — 

Shake  the  pillars  of  the  earth  ! 

6.  First-born  of  Liberty  divine  ! 

Put  on  Religion'' s  bright  array  \ 
Speak !  and  the  starless  grave  shall  shine 

The  portal  of  eternal  day  ! 
Rise,  kindling  with  the  orient  beam  ; 
Let  Calvary^ skill  inspire  the  theme  ! 

Unfold  the  garments  roll'd  in  blood  ! 
O  touch  the  soul,  touch  all  her  chords, 
With  all  the  omnipotence  of  words, 

And  point  the  way  to  Heaven — to  God. 


LESSON  CLXXVIL 

Death  of  Marco  Bozzaris* — Halleck. 

L  At  midnight,  in  his  guarded  tent, 

The  Turk  was  dreaming  of  the  hour. 
When  Greece,  her  knee  in  suppliance  bent, 

Should  tremble  at  his  power  ; 
In  dreams,  through  camp  and  court,  he  bore 
The  trophies  of  a  conqueror  ; 

In  dreams  his  song  of  triumph  heard ; 
Then  w^ore  his  monarch's  signet  ring, — 
Then  pressed  that  monarch's  throne — a  king ; 
As  wild  his  thoughts,  and  gay  of  wing, 

As  Eden's  garden  bird. 

%  An  hour  passed  on — the  Turk  awoke ; 

That  bright  dream  was  his  last ; 
He  woke — to  hear  his  sentry's  shriek, 
"  To  arms  !  they  come  !  tlie  Greek  !  the  Greek  !"       • 
He  woke — to  die  midst  flame  and  smoke, 
And  shout,  and  groan,  and  sabre  stroke, 

And  death  shots  falling  thick  and  fast 
As  lightnings  from  the  mountain  cloud ; 
And  heard,  with  voice  as  trumpet  loud, 

Bozzaris  cheer  his  band  ; 

*  He  fell  in  an  attack  upon  the  Turkish  Gamp  at  Laspi,  the  site  of  the 
ancient  Platfea,  August  20,  1823,  and  expired  in  the  moment  of  victory. 
His  last  words  were — "  To  die  for  Uberty  is  a  pleasure,  not  a  pain." 


334  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

"  Strike — till  the  last  armed  foe  expires, 
Strike — for  your  altars  and  your  fires, 
Strike — for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires, 
God — and  your  native  land  !" 

3.  They  fought  like  brave  men,  long  and  well, 

They  piled  that  ground  with  Moslem  slain, 
They  conquered — but  Bozzaris  fell, 

Bleeding  at  every  vein. 
His  few  sur^dving  comrades  saw 
His  smile,  when  rang  their  proud  hurrah, 

And  the  red  field  was  won  ; 
Then  saw  in  death  his  eyelids  close. 
Calmly,  as  to  a  night's  repose, 

Like  flowers  at  set  of  sun. 

4.  Come  to  the  bridal  chamber.  Death  ! 

Come  to  the  mother,  when  she  feels 
For  the  first  time  her  first-born's  breath ; — 

Come  when  the  blessed  seals 
Which  close  the  pestilence  are  broke. 
And  crowded  cities  wail  its  stroke  ; — 
Come  in  consumption's  ghastly  form, 
The  earthquake  shock,  the  ocean  storm ; — 
Come  when  the  heart  beats  high  and  warm 

With  banquet-song,  and  dance,  and  wine. 
And  thou  art  terrible  ;  the  tear, 
The  groan,  the  knell,  the  pall,  the  bier. 
And  all  we  know,  or  dream,  or  fear 

Of  agony,  are  thine. 

5.  But  to  the  hero,  when  his  sword 

Has  won  the  battle  for  the  free. 
Thy  voice  sounds  like  a  prophet's  word, 
And  in  its  hollow  tones  are  heard 

The  thanks  of  millions  yet  to  be. 
Bozzaris  !  witli  the  storied  brave 

Greece  nurtured  in  her  glorj-'s  time. 
Rest  thee — there  is  no  prouder  grave. 

Even  in  her  own  proud  clime. 

We  tell  thy  doom  without  a  sigh ; 
For  thou  art  Fredom's  now,  and  Fame's— 
One  of  the  few,  the  immortal  names, 

That  were  not  born  to  die. 


NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR.  335 

LESSON  CLXXVIIl. 

Dream  of  Clarence. — Shakspeare« 

1.  O,  I  have  passed  a  miserable  night, 
So  full  of  ugly  sights,  of  ghastly  dreams, 
That,  as  I  am  a  Christian  faithful  man, 

I  would  not  spend  another  such  a  night, 
Though  'twere  to  buy  a  world  of  happy  days : 
So  full  of  dismal  terror  was  the  time. 

2.  Methought  that  I  had  broken  from  the  tower, 
And  was  embarked  to  cross  to  Burgundy, 

And  in  my  company  my  brother  Gloucester,* 

Who  from  my  cabin  tempted  me  to  walk 

Upon  the  hatches.     Thence  we  looked  toward  England 

And  cited  up  a  tliousand  heavy  times, 

During  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster, 

That  had  befallen  us.     As  we  passed  along 

Upon  the  giddy  footing  of  the  hatclies, 

Methought  that  Gloucester  stumbled,  and  in  falling 

Struck  me  (that  sought  to  stay  him)  overboard, 

Into  the  tumbling  billows  of  the  main. 

3.  O,  then  methought,  what  pain  it  was  to  drown ! 
What  dreadful  noise  of  waters  in  my  ears  ! 

What  sights  of  ugly  death  within  mine  eyes ! 

Methought  I  saw  a  thousand  fearful  wrecks  ; 

A  thousand  men  that  fishes  gnawed  upon ; 

Wedges  of  gold,  great  anchors,  heaps  of  pearl. 

Inestimable  stones,  unvalued  jewels  ; 

All  scattered  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

Some  lay  in  dead  men's  sculls  ;  and  in  those  holes 

Where  eyes  did  once  inhabit,  there  were  crept, 

As  'twere  in  scorn  of  eyes,  reflecting  gems, 

That  wooed  the  slimy  bottom  of  the  deep, 

And  mocked  the  dead  bones  that  lay  scattered  by. 

4. Often  did  I  strive 

To  yield  the  ghost ;  but  still  the  envious  flood 
Kept  in  my  soul,. and  would  not  let  it  forth 
To  find  the  empty,  vast,  and  wandering  air ; 
But  smother'd  it  within  my  panting  bulk, 
Which  almost  burst  to  belch  it  in  the  sea. 

5.  My  dream  was  lengthened  after  life ; 
O,  then  began  the  tempest  of  my  soul ; 

♦  Richard  III.  king  of  England,  in  1483. 


336  NATIONAL  PRECEPTOR. 

I  passed,  methought,  the  melancholy  flood, 
With  that  grim  ferryman  which  poets  write  of^ 
Unto  the  kingdom  of  perpetual  night. 
The  first  that  there  did  greet  my  stranger-soul, 
Was  my  great  father-in-law,  renowned  Warwick, 

Who  cried  aloud "  What  scourge  for  perjury 

Can  this  dark  monarchy  afford  false  Clarence  ?" 
And  so  he  vanished. 

6.  Then  came  wandering  by 

A  shadow  like  an  angel,  with  bright  hair 

Dabbled  in  blood,  and  he  shrieked  out  aloud 

"  Clarence  is  come,  false,  fleeting,  perjured  Clarence, 
That  stabbed  me  in  the  field  by  Tewkesbury  ; 
Seize  on  him,  furies  !  take  him  to  your  torments  !" 
With  that,  methought  a  legion  of  foul  fiends 
Environed  me,  and  howled  into  mine  ears 
Such  hideous  cries,  that  with  tlie  very  noise 
I  trembling  waked ;  and  for  a  season  after 
Could  not  believe  but  that  I  was  in  hell ; 
Such  terrible  impression  made  my  dream. 


mm^;iMimsmmsmsk: 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

J^'L^]^}^  *^"®  °*L5*l«  ^'  date  stamped  below, 
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Renewed  books  are  subjea  to  immediate  recall 


'ff^-mffin  " 


'■''  1  L  75 


SANTA  BARB/  :^A 
INTERLIBRARY  luAW 


NOVI5  1077 


^x  cm.rsc  207- 


UECimoiKr 


LD2lA-10m-8,'73 

(R1902S10)476 — A-31 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


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